Mentor
by Gamemaker97
Summary: He thought that life would be easier after the arena. He was wrong. With victory, there comes resposibility. It's up to him to bring his tribute home alive...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Welcome to my second fanfic! This is a sequel to my story 'Second Time Unlucky', although you don't need to have read that to enjoy this! However, I would recommend it. Regardless, let the story begin!**

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**Pt.I- Remembrance**

**Chapter One**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (16), Hunger Games Victor**

**District 4 Comprehensive School, District 4**

**11.35 am, Tuesday 12th October, year of the 66th Hunger Games**

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"...and so when _y_ is equal to four times _x_ over three..."

I'm quick to drone out Mr Taylor's ramblings. Sitting at the back of the class, I can get away with amusing myself, staring at the clouds out the window. Let the other kids pay attention. After all, an education actually matters to them. I never have to work again.

I hate this petty law of the Capitol's creation. Compulsory education until the end of the school year in which you turn sixteen. Being the eldest of our year, I turned sixteen a month ago. I don't pay attention at all; I don't need to. Victors aren't expected to work.

Looking around the maths classroom, I see faces creased in concentration. I don't see the point in maths. No practical skills come of it. The three Sciences or New Anglish would be much more beneficial lessons. They at least hold real-world context. Maths is useless. It's not like I needed simultaneous equations to escape the arena.

"...well done, Cresta, I'm pleased you can see that..."

_Ugh._ I don't know why I even bother to try and tune in to Mr Taylor's talks. Half the class sit focused, trying to comprehend today's mental challenges.

At the front of the class sit Brandon Mullery and Dylan Cresta, two lads who always seem to put in effort at school. Dylan doesn't even seem to try at times. _Know-it-all._

I move my gaze backwards from the front of the class. There's Harrison, a tall lad who always seems to show off. We're polite to each other, but I won't pretend that we're friends. He's too arrogant for me. After the arena, I think I've seen enough arrogance for a lifetime.

Grace Tyler sits next to him, trying to grab his attention all the time. Harrison might pass off as better-looking than most of us, but he wouldn't go for Grace. Too clingy. As such, she's the subject of a lot of mockery at school. Of course, she's only after Harrison because she knows that Finnick is out of her league.

Sitting in the corner opposite me is Finnick Odair, my best friend and fellow victor. He looks like he's threatening to appear even more bored than I am. This won't do. I quickly reach down for my schoolbag, pull out a sheet of paper (which is actually weeks-old homework from History) and scribble a quick note on it:

_Think Tyler will ever give up?_

I fashion the sheet into decent enough paper aeroplane, and once Mr Taylor turns his back on us, I throw it at Finnick. Sadly, paper aeroplanes don't fly as straight as knives do, and the plane veers to the right, hitting Dennis Orman, the boy who sits next to Finnick, on the side of the head. He gives a rude gesture under the desks in my direction before unfolding the plane.

I watch him glance over at Grace and I catch him smirk before passing the sheet to Finnick. A similar reaction is forced from Finnick, who hastily scribbles something down before folding up the plane and returning it to me.  
Underneath my own writing, I can see Finnick's reply:

_Just because I'm too good for her._

I sigh in mock disapproval and shake my head in Finnick's direction. Jokingly, I receive a flirtatious wink as a reply. I roll my eyes and return to staring out the window, but I can still see Finnick sniggering out of the corner of my eye.

The lesson passes slowly, and by the time we break for lunch, I'm completely bored out of my mind. I head outside with Finnick, Dylan, Brandon and another lad called Elliot Goodwin, and we find a spot in the open yard at the front of the school. I perch myself on the four-feet-high brick wall that lines the perimeter of the yard, and start to peel an orange.

"Damned maths lesson," mutters Elliot, fed up. "I didn't understand any of it."

"Take a page out of my book, Goodwin," replies Finnick. "Don't bother trying. If you don't try, you can't fail."

"I didn't have any problems," chips in Dylan.

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" replies Brandon. "We're not all geniuses, you know."

"I never said we all were."

"Come on, there's no point arguing!" intervenes Finnick. "We all know that-"

Finnick stops speaking as he notices to tall, burly lads from the top year approach our group. Intimidated, Brandon and Elliot quickly leave before trouble arises.

I find that I know one of the two older boys by name. Karl Fisher. A complete imbecile. One of the drop-outs from school, a waste to society. Forced back after no qualifications meant no work, and in the savage environment of District 4, no work means poverty and eventual death.

He's as dumb as anyone, but people steer clear of him because he's six foot four. A menace to school society, Karl and his cronies were the school bullies in their younger years. I'd hoped they grown out of such activities, but something about the way that they swagger over to us tells me that they're looking for a fight. And I doubt they're here for Dylan.

"Oi, Robertson!" hollers Karl. Oh, no. What does he want now?

I'm not surprised Brandon and Elliot have left. They don't want this sort of interaction, and I don't blame them. But Karl Fisher wants me to stay.

I drop down from the wall and walk confidently towards him and his equally malicious-looking friend.

"What do you want, Fisher?" I taunt, already knowing that they're after a fight. "Haven't you got bigger fish to fry?"

Karl laughs before replying. "Bigger fish to fry than the latest Hunger Games victor? I think not. What we want, Robertson, is know how you, a complete runt, managed to survive the arena."

Karl flexes his muscles and looks back at his fellow thug, who stands by his shoulder.

"Ain't that right, Foster?"

The other lad grins and looks at me maliciously, trying to stare me out. It's not like I'll give him to his type. I've faced worse.

"Do you really want to know how I won, Fisher?" I say. "Because other people actually _liked_ me. They were willing to protect me. I was never physically capable of killing some of the other tributes, like that lad from District 1, Robin. Or his district partner, the incredibly arrogant and violent Pearl. But when I needed help, I had allies who got me through."

"Ah, yes," Karl replies. "Gotten over Harper's death yet?"

_He did not just mention that._ Yes, I had allies, especially my district partner, Madelaine Harper. We'd been friends for years. And I had loved her. I'm not going to let him taunt me about her. I'm amazed even Karl Fisher would sink so low.

"Lay off it, Fisher," says Finnick sternly, leaning again the wall, five years behind me. "Don't go that far."

"And what, Odair?" he taunts. "You wouldn't stand a chance against us."

He turns his attention back to me.

"Even if your friends here-" he gestures to Finnick and Dylan- "put up a fight with you, you're no match for us."

Then Dylan does something I never expected of him. He walks strongly up to me and stands by my side, staring down Karl. He might not be strong, but he's definitely brave. He's slightly taller than me at five foot five, but still no match for the two boys who square up opposite us. He tries to be strong, but I see a flicker of fear in his green eyes.

"Last I checked, there's three of us, and only two of you," says Dylan, unsuccessfully trying to sound threatening. His voice is wavering too much for anything he says to be a threat.

"And what exactly are you going to do, Cresta?" taunts Karl. "You're just as flimsy as Robertson here."

That stings, but it's true. Physical strength has never been my forte. But it just terrifies Dylan, and I see him drop his gaze for a few moments.

"You lay off them, Fisher," says Finnick, walking up confidently to stand on my left. "Or you'll have me to answer to."

"Oh, goody!" says Karl in mock excitement. "Two victors for the price of one!"

"Pushing your luck, Karl?" taunts Finnick. "Don't you think one is enough of a threat?"

"Lay a finger on me, Odair, and you're dead."

"Dead, I hear you say? My dear Karl, I think you're losing your memory, my friend," taunts Finnick patronisingly. "Last I checked, me and Robertson were the murderers here."

Finnick's words ring true, and for a moment, Karl's stern expression falters.

"Do you want me to mess up that pretty face, Odair?" sneers Karl.

_Ouch. That hurts,_ I think. My right hand subconsciously tightens around the handle of my knife in my belt. After three months, the memories of the arena might be slowly starting to fade, but the paranoia has never left me. I never go anywhere unarmed. Not even school.

In the face of Karl's threats, Finnick just smirks.

"Come at me."

* * *

_Smack._

The throbbing in my head starts to diminish as I come to my senses. The faint memories of the dream evaporate as I come round. I always relive my memories in my sleep. It's been nine months since Finnick and I were excluded from school, after pinning Karl Fisher and his burly friend to the wall, our knives at their throats. During the fight, once the adrenalin started flowing, was the only time since the arena that, for a brief moment, I was prepared to kill again. Luckily for Karl Fisher, the teachers were upon us before I could carry out my half-formed plans. He was a threat. He needed to be eliminated. I allow myself a small smile as I savour the memory.

_It served them right._

At least I was spared Maddie's death in my dreams this time.

I can feel the cool sea breeze against my face, and as I roll onto my back I can see the tall trunk of a tree, and I remember where I am. I'm in the woods that line the sea cliffs, getting fresh air before the day that lies ahead. I always do the same thing on reaping day; take a walk in the early morning with Finnick. So that if we are chosen, our last memories of District 4 will be happy ones. Even though neither of our names remain in the reaping bowls, old habits die hard.

Above me I only hear laughing, and I can see Finnick, delirious with laughter, trying to keep his balance in the beech tree fifteen feet above my head. And I begin to understand my current situation. I must have climbed the tree with Finnick and drifted off to sleep in its branches. But then I fell out. It's odd, because I can't remember climbing the tree. That being said, my head still hurts and I doubt I'm thinking straight.

Finnick drops down beside me, his laughing fit over.

"You complete idiot," he chuckles, pulling me to my feet.

"How was I meant to know I was going to fall asleep?" I complain.

"I don't know, but you should have," he jokes.

"How?"

"By realising that you couldn't keep your eyes open?" jokes Finnick and he punches me on the arm playfully, and I sigh disapprovingly.

"Never mind," he says. "We've got a big day ahead, and I heard yesterday that Julian wanted us all back in Victor's Village for eleven."

He's right. We have got a big day ahead. We've come full circle. It's Sunday 14th July, and that only means one thing. The second Sunday of July. Reaping day.

Today, the 67th Annual Hunger Games begin.

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**A/N: And so ends Chapter One! If you haven't yet read it, I would recommend reading 'Second Time Unlucky' whilst waiting for the next update. Updates should be twice weekly, and I aim for 27 chapters in total.**

**If you've enjoyed this Chapter, please review! Constructive Criticism is welcome :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: A quick note to mention that one of the characters in this chapter of was of richards25's creation, after I asked for some help with some of the tributes. To say who at this stage would give away who gets reaped, so I'm going to let you guess who!**

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**Chapter Two**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (16), Hunger Games Victor**

**The Woods, District 4**

**10.30 am, Sunday 14th July, year of the 67th Hunger Games**

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The walk back through District 4 towards Victor's Village is slow and uncomfortable. Not only is the heat of the July sun making me uncomfortable, but the wary looks from the District people unnerve me. Even after eleven months, I haven't gotten over it. Victor's Village is situated near the boundary of our District, and me and Finnick live in isolation with the other nine surviving Victors of District 4. There were twelve of us when I moved in, but our numbers have diminished in the last year. We keep to ourselves, and so our presence is not welcomed around the district. Our kind, the murderers, aren't welcomed here.

Amongst the hostility, there are a few friendly faces. The few people, who, if not our friends, at least remained civil to us after our exclusion from school, stand out from the crowd. Some of the stall-keepers in the Market. The town baker. The postman.

Mostly, though, these people are old friends from school, most of which I no longer have contact with. The Market seems quieter that most days as we walk through, although I still see two boys from my school year, George Collins and Jack Bannan. They nod out of respect as we pass, though no words are said. Even when we were at school, I never socialised much with either of them. Still, I know they were full of respect for me and Finnick surfing the Games. I can imagine one of them volunteering in a couple of years, when they are eighteen. I can imagine them being headstrong enough to think they have a chance. Then again, I shouldn't count them off too soon. I never anticipated my own return to District 4.

Leaving the market behind, we head into the richer areas of the district. Walking down the wide, tidy streets, we pass my old house. Nobody lives there anymore, but the house is still legally the property of my family. I was intended to live in Victor's Village alone, but my dad moved in with me when mother died. He said that he couldn't stand living in the old house anymore. It reminded him too much of her.

Down the road from my house, we run into a short, slim boy with green eyes and short light brown hair. I know him well; after all, his house is only three doors down from my family's old home.

"Morning, Dylan," says Finnick. "Prepared for the reaping?"

Dylan Cresta sighs, then shrugs his shoulders.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replies, trying to sound optimistic. "Only four more to go, right?"

I'm about to correct Dylan, but then I realise that I would be in the wrong. Even though we were in the same school year, his birthday is almost eleven months after mine, on the fourth of August. So when I was twelve for the reaping of the 63rd Games, Dylan still had a month to wait until his twelfth birthday. Now, whereas I am sixteen, Dylan is only fifteen. After today, he will have to face the reaping three more times. His last possible games will be the 70th. Luckily, Dylan has no need to take tesserae. His family does well enough. After all, they can afford a house in the nicest part of the district. The houses here rival those in Victor's Village.

"Four slips this year, right?" I ask him.

"Yeah," nods Dylan. "I guess it could be a lot worse. Still, you only need one slip of paper to stand a chance of getting reaped."

"Think about it," I say reassuringly. "You've not been picked yet. And you've only got one more name this year than last, haven't you?"

"Yeah, though this time, I can't rely on you being pulled out, can I?" he jokes. He has a fair point. My name was pulled from the reaping bowl for both the 65th and 66th Games. But Finnick volunteered for me in the 65th, and I escaped the arena myself last year.

"Don't worry about it, Dylan," says Finnick. "And anyway, even if you are reaped, you might get the best mentor Panem has ever seen!"

"What makes you say that?"

"Cause I'm a possible mentor, Dylan!" jokes Finnick. This reminds me that due to rule changes for this year's Games, the process for choosing who mentors has changed. Remembering this, I realise that we really need to see the other victors. We've all agreed to meet at Julian's house for eleven. Checking my watch, I can see that we only have ten minutes.

I try to encourage Finnick to leave Dylan (he'll have plenty of time to talk to him on another day), but before I can, a short girl with dark-flowing hair runs up to Dylan from down the road. It's Dylan's twin sister, and I know very little about her. In over ten years of going to school with her, she's said little more than ten sentences to me and Finnick. She's incredibly shy.

She pulls Dylan to one side, and after a quick, quiet conversation that I can't fathom, Dylan turns back to us.

"Sorry, lads," he says. "We have to go and prepare for the reaping. I'll speak to you soon."

"Yeah, sure, we'll speak soon."

As he turns to leave, Finnick calls after him.

"Dylan!"

He turns back to face us.

"May the odds be _ever_ in your favour, Cresta," says Finnick ridiculously. I see a grin appear on Dylan's face before he leaves, and we take the opportunity to return to Victor's Village.

The kitchen in Julian's home seems stuffy and untidy. In reality, it is rather tidy, but me and my dad keep our whole house in immaculate condition. We just have more time than Julian has. Also, the stuffiness is accounted for by the ten victors sitting around the long wooden table. Julian is up, making us all drinks. I look around at the other ten victors present. Huddled next to me on my left (it's a bit of a squeeze to fit ten round this table) is Finnick, and on my right is our oldest victor, Mags, a woman who won in the earliest years of the Games. Opposite me is Auriel, a twenty-seven-year-old man who won the 58th Games. He was our first victor since the Second Quarter Quell. I know that he spends most of his time training wannabe-Careers in District 4's training centre.

Along with Auriel, Harrow spends most of his waking hours in the training centre. He was a Career once; he volunteered for the 48th Games, the year before Julian won. Despite his Career status during and after the Games, the years after the arena have meant that Harrow has left this side of him behind. In comparison to the rest of us, he's returned to the normalcy of the district quite well.

Fifth is a man in his early fifties, whose name I believe be Cale. From what I have heard of him from the others, he's a bit of a recluse. This is only the second or third time I've seen him out of his home since I moved in to Victor's Village.

At the far end of the table, four female victors sit in conversation. The youngest, Georgie, must have won her Games shortly before Harrow, about twenty years ago. She still retains the posture of a Career. Even though it's completely pointless, I believe she still trains, and is one of the four victors to run District 4's training centre.

The other three women are elderly victors, all of whom won before the first quell. Harriet, Natalie and Danielle. I know none of them well, but all seem friendly when I have had chance to make small-talk with them.

Then there is Julian, who has now taken a seat at the head of the table, sending drinks down to all of us. He won the Games the year after Harrow, and the two have been good friends for years. He is the fourth victor to dedicate themselves to the Training Centre, although he was never trained there himself. Reaped at the age of sixteen, the Careers didn't volunteer for him. In our district, Careers realise that even with their training, their chances of survival are low. So they only volunteer for the absolute no-hopers. Twelve or thirteen-year-olds, who will never win the Games no matter how much training they might have had. With no physical strength, they will never survive.

So Julian works at the Training Centre, but not for the same reason as his three fellow trainers. Harrow, Auriel and Georgie were all Careers in their youth, and felt as though once they had won their Games, becoming trainers seemed like the logical thing to do. On the other hand, Julian trains youngsters because he never wants anyone to enter the arena as under-prepared as he once was.

And then there is me. Ludovic Robertson, the newcomer to this group. I am the eleventh living victor in District 4, and for the next three weeks, I am sure that everyone at this table will be trying their hardest to take our numbers up to twelve.

"Now, down to business," says Julian with a tone of authority. "As I'm sure you are all aware, the rules for deciding the mentors have been changed."

I see nods of assent quietly spread round the long table.

"As you all know, in previous years, after the reaping of tributes, two victors are reaped to decide who becomes a mentor in that year. This year, that is not the case."

Auriel picks up the explanation as Julian takes sips from his drink.

"This year, the two mentors must volunteer themselves as mentors prior to the reaping. Also, and two victors can volunteer. They no longer have to be gender specific. For the first time, male victors can mentor female tributes, and vice versa."

"So, we have to decide amongst ourselves?" asks Finnick.

"Yeah," says Harrow. "So, does anyone desperately not want to do it?"

"I don't," says Mags firmly. "I've mentored my fair share of tributes over the years."

"Neither do we," say Harriet and Natalie. "Like Mags, we've mentored enough."

"I think it's safe to say Cale won't be mentoring," says Julian. "No offence, Cale, but I doubt you'd have the responsibility for it."

Cale doesn't answer; he just shrugs and leans back in his chair.

"If we're getting short of numbers, I'll mentor," says Finnick. "After all, I did alright last year didn't I?"

"Alright, Finnick can mentor," says Harrow. "Anyone else?"

Finnick digs his elbow into my side, and know what he wants me to do.

"I'll do it," I say. "I've not done it before, so I'll give it a go." To be honest, that's only a half-truth. I would like to see what life as a mentor is like, but really, I'm looking for an excuse to leave District 4. Even though District 4 is my home, I don't feel like I fit in here anymore. Not since the Games. A month away will do me some good.

"Who are the possible Careers this year, Auriel?" asks Finnick.

Each year, a month before the Games, all the eighteen-year-olds in the Training Centre enter a mock Games. Also, trainees from younger years can enter if they feel ready. These training Games are fought with training weapons so no serious harm is cause to any future tributes, and the victor of these Games will be the one to volunteer if needed at the reaping.

"The lad who won was comfortably the best fighter," says Auriel. "An eighteen-year-old called Alec Flood."

"He'd won last year, too, aged seventeen," continues Julian. "He would have volunteered last year, if a younger boy had been reaped."

"What about the girls?" I ask.

"Rose Ellis," says Georgie. I know the name. She's in the top year at school, though I'm slightly surprised that she's the strongest trainee this year.

"The Orman girl ran her close, though, didn't she?" says Harrow, and the other three trainers nod.

"She's only seventeen, though. Her time will come next year," says Georgie.

"I'll mentor the girl this year, then," says Finnick. "It sounds like Alec is very strong. It'll give Ludo an easy first year if he volunteers."

"Very well, Finnick," nods Julian. "Good luck, you two. I'd better head of to the justice building immediately and let our mentors know who his mentors are this year."

Julian stands to leave, and Harrow goes with him. Julian pulls a set of keys from his pocket and tosses them Auriel.  
"Lock up when you leave, would you?" Julian asks, and then he's gone.

The rest of us make small talk for an hour, before we return to our own homes to dress for the reapings. Previous victors are always called on stage during the reaping ceremony, so we need to look good. I dress in a near-identical outfit to last year (white shirt, black trousers, black shoes, my blond hair slicked back) and leave to meet Finnick at the edge of Victor's Village.

We walk in through the town without any hostile looks this time. Now all the residents of District 4 are too wrapped up in their own troubles to care about us. The reaping is just an hour away.

As we walk down the main thoroughfare to the town square, we run into another old friend. Dennis Orman.

"Hey, Dennis!" calls Finnick, and the medium-height boy with dark brown hair turns to us.

"Oh, hi Finnick!" he says cheerily. "How's life since you got kicked out?"

"Free," Finnick replies. "We're free to do what we like."

"Pity I have to stay on a school," says Dennis. "I need the education. You two don't need jobs. You've got all the money you need. Anyway, think you could let me know who the mentors will be this year?"

"Yours truly," says Finnick, taking an over-elaborate bow, making both me and Dennis laugh.

"Male or female?" asks Dennis.

"Female," replies Finnick. "Ludo will be mentoring the male tribute."

"Taking female mentor next year, Finnick?" asks a female voice, and I have to turn to look behind Dennis at a tall, skinny girl with short auburn hair. I remember what the trainers had said earlier. _"That Orman girl came close... Her time will come next year."_

So this is the girl they were on about. Dennis' sister. I know she's in the school year above me, but I can't remember her first name. Judging by her cold, calculating looks at both me and Finnick, she'll be a vicious fighter. Just looking at her, I might ask for the female tribute next year.

However, my attention isn't focused on her for long, as I can see that she's linked arm-in-arm with an older boy, who I quickly recognise. Nathan Foster. Last time I saw him, Finnick had a knife at his throat. No wonder he's glaring at us so much.

I turn away and see Finnick falter as he tries to answer Dennis' sister's question.

"What?" Foster is getting to him. Finnick is uncomfortable in his presence. "Uh, I dunno, Marline."

Marline! That was her name. I make a mental note to thank Finnick for getting me out of a potentially awkward situation.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see," continues Finnick. "After all, these Games haven't even started yet!"

"Oh, okay," replies Marline. "You'll let me know when you know who's mentoring next year, right?"

"Yeah, I will do," Finnick says. "Anyway, we need to get going." I can see that Foster is really making Finnick uncomfortable. He wants to make his leave. "See you soon, Dennis. And good luck."

"Good luck with your mentoring, you two," I hear Dennis call after us as we walk on ahead of them.

Soon, we're at the Justice Building, and we meet Julian and Harrow at the back entrances, who lead us inside. We're taken to the entrance foyer near the front of the Justice Building, which has large oak doors that head out onto the stage that has been set up in the square for the reaping. A glance at the clock tells me that we got here just in time. One fifty-five. The reaping starts in five minutes.

There are fifteen of us lined up to take the stage. At the front of the queue, there is our Mayor, an ageing man in his forties, our head peacekeeper, a Capitol representative that I can't place, and then our escort, Flavius Blacklock. Just from catching the blond streaks that run through his light-brown hair by looking ahead in the queue, I know that it is Flavius. I don't know why, but seeing Flavius here makes me feel secure and relieved. Even though my role has changed, some things will stay the same as last year. Flavius will be here to guide us all through. Along with my stylist Julia, Flavius is the only Capitol citizen that I would call a friend.

Then all the victors stand in the queue, in order of their Games. Mags at the front, me at the back. Then the large oak doors at the front of the Justice Building open, and the Mayor walks out with Flavius to begin the reaping.

As ever, the Treaty of Treason is recited, and despite how tedious it is, it seems to pass quicker this year than most. Maybe it's because I'm nervous. I'm about to go on stage again, after all.

Then Flavius takes centre stage, and I can see him call out the name of all of District 4's past victors in chronological order. Finally, only me and Finnick remain to take to the stage.

"The victor of the 65th Annual Hunger Games, Finnick Odair!"

I watch as Finnick bounds onto the stage, full of enthusiasm. I watch him blow kisses to the cheering crowd, and it forces me smirk. Yet again, Finnick is playing the flirt for the Capitol audiences. I guess I'd better get used to it; he'll be like this for the next few weeks.

"And finally, the victor of the 66th Annual Hunger Games, Ludovic Robertson!"

I walk slowly on the stage, smiling and waving at the crowds. I can see Flavius cheering me on at the front of the stage. He's wearing the same white high-collared jacket as last year, the age-concealing make-up is just as obvious as ever at a short distance. Still, I'd guess he's in his mid-thirties.

I walk up to Flavius and shake his hand. Instantly, I feel reassured about being on stage. Seeing an old friend calms my nerves and I take my place next to Finnick as the reaping begins for real.

"Now, I must introduce the mentors for this year's Games!" says Flavius excitedly. He certainly knows how to play the crowds.

"For the male tribute, the mentor will be Ludovic Robertson!" he says, and the crowds cheer as I have to return to Flavius' side.

"The mentor for the female tribute is Finnick Odair!"

Yet more cheers as Finnick walks up to stand on Flavius' left. Then Flavius takes one of our hands in his and we stand together holding our linked hands up to the audience. Then me and Finnick are taken to stand by the reaping bowls from which the names of our tributes shall come.

"As usual, ladies first," says Flavius. He slowly walks over to the bowl with all the girls names in rummages around for a few moments. As he does, I look over to Finnick, who appears nervous. After all, whoever Flavius picks, Finnick will be mentoring.

After a few moments, Flavius pulls out a name.

"Rebecca Young!"

I watch as a small, positively terrified girl of fifteen walks slowly towards the stage. Finnick doesn't stand a chance with her; I doubt she has the talent to survive the bloodbath. But she's fifteen, so nobody will-

"I volunteer!"

I sigh as I watch a tall, skinny girl of seventeen push past a relieved Rebecca and walk confidently onto stage. I place her almost instantly; after all, I was talking to her half an hour ago.

"What's your name, girl?" asks Flavius as the young woman with short auburn hair arrives on stage.

"Marline," she replies confidently. "Marline Orman."

I'm shocked by her decision. Yes, she was a Career, but surely she'd have wanted to wait another year? There is nothing stopping anyone from volunteering, but generally only the chosen Career does. I can see Rose Ellis in the eighteen-year-olds section, her face a picture of shock and fury. If she wanted to volunteer, she's missed her chance. I guess she didn't expect Marline, the girl she defeated for a chance to become tribute, would dare to volunteer. I have to admit, I didn't expect it either. Then again, it's her death wish, not mine.

Looking down in the crowd, I see many shocked faces, including that of Nathan Foster. I can't help but smirk, however low it is. Then again, he laughed at me when my love died in my Games. There are very few opportunities for revenge in this world, but the reaping of Marline Orman has allowed me to get back at Nathan Foster.

"Now for the boys!" says Flavius eagerly. I stand to the side as Flavius reaches into my bowl and pulls out a name.

"Maximillian Harper!"

For a moment, I'm stunned. Maddie's younger brother. She took tesserae to protect him, and she paid the ultimate price. A painful death at the hands of Quintus Cato, the stereotypical Career from District 2. It doesn't seem right that her brother has been reaped. But then I remember that Maddie's youngest brother is only thirteen, and I know that a Career will volunteer for him.

Still, I'm surprised when two eighteen-year-old boys call out simultaneously.

"I volunteer!"

I look down to the eighteen-year-old section, and I see a very distraught Nathan Foster scrambling to get onto stage. For a moment, I feel guilty. Nathan is prepared the make the sacrifice that I would never have made. He is prepared to take a place in the Games to save Marline. A risk I never took for Maddie. I would have let her go into the 66th Annual Hunger Games alone if I hadn't been reaped myself. Now Nathan has gotten one over me.

And I hate him for it.

Behind Nathan, I can see another equally strong boy running for the stage, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Alec Flood. He gains on Nathan easily, and the two climb the stairs side by side. After much tumbling, they both collapse at the top of the stairs.

"Well, it appears we have two volunteers!" says Flavius, slightly worried. This situation is new for him. District 4 has no protocol for such events.

"What should we do now, folks?" asks Flavius to the crowd.

Everyone is silent. Nobody knows what should be done. I look from Flavius, who is quickly losing his composure, to Finnick, who appears confused, to emotionless Marline. Alec and Nathan stand awkwardly at the top of the stairs. Everything is silent. After what seems like eternity, I come up with an idea.

I catch Flavius' eye and gesture at the microphone.

"May I?" I ask.

Flavius nods and moves back from the microphone, allowing me to take centre stage.

"I'm not sure if this will be allowed, but I have a solution," I say confidently. "You two!" I gesture at Alec and Nathan. "Come over here!"

Both boys walk slowly over to me and stand on either side, glaring at each other.

"You both want to become tributes correct?" I ask.

"Yes!" says Nathan impatiently, whereas Alec just nods.

"Then, as your mentor, I will want the tribute who will be most capable to survive the Games." I take a pause before saying my next line.

"If you want to become the male tribute for District 4 this year, you're going to have to fight for your place."

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**POV: Alec Flood (18), District 4 Citizen**

**The Town Square, District 4**

**2.17 pm, Sunday 14th July, year of the 67th Hunger Games**

* * *

"If you want to become the male tribute for District 4 this year, you're going to have to fight for your place."

Ludo Robertson, my future mentor, picks up the microphone moves away from the stand with it, leaving no barrier between me and my adversary.

As I turn to face him, I drop into a fighting stance, holding my fists high, ready to strike.

I already know that I will win. Nathan Foster, the other boy who volunteered, didn't go to the Training Centre. He might be strong, stronger than me even. But it's not how much power you have that wins a fight. It's how you use what power you have.

I can see from his glare that he won't use his effectively. His eyes are wild and frenzied. He's not keeping a level head. This fight will be easy.

Admittedly, I can't blame him for being a bit rash in his decisions. His lover has just volunteered for the Hunger Games. And judging by his reaction, he never knew she was planning on it. Maybe I should cut him some slack. Ha, who am I kidding? This is the Hunger Games. No mercy from hereon in.

Nathan drops into a clumsy fighting stance five yards from me, and Ludo starts speaking again.

"This fight will continue until one of you submits, whether that be your own decision, or whether you are forced into it. Victory conditions are pin, submission or knockout. Also, no weapons. This fight is hand-to-hand only. Any weapons and you're disqualified. Got it?"

We both nod, barely taking our eyes off of each other. He's definitely taller than me, by three of four inches. Not that I'm short, I stand just over six feet tall, but Foster is massive. And yes, he has massive muscles, but just from the way he moves, I can tell he'll be sluggish in a fight. Years of training have rendered me agile for my height.

The eleven victors, the Mayor and our district escort, Flavius Blacklock, have all formed a semi-circle on the stage. There's nowhere to go. It's not like I'd run from this, anyway. This is just me and Nathan from here on in, broadcast to the entire nation.

"Ok, then, let's get this underway," says Ludo, and for once I can hear district 4 actually cheering. Not the fake applause that is usually given, but the raucous cheering that you would normally associate with the Capitol. Maybe a simple one-on-one fight will capture an audience in Four. No death, so the stakes aren't too high. Except for this fight. The winner will go into the Hunger Games. I have to give it everything today.

"Three!" calls Ludo excitedly.

"Two!" the crowd are joining in now.

"One!"

I black out the cheering of the crowd as Foster charges at me, fists raised. As he reaches me, he swings a clumsy punch, and I raise my left arm to block, parrying his blow. Then he swings again with his right, and as I duck, his momentum takes him past me. As he turns, I rise up and punch him squarely on his cheekbone. That was too easy.

Nathan staggers away, trying to shake of the pain. Then he comes to his senses and comes at me again, his fists raised. Yet again, I step deftly away as he charges, and I leave my left leg behind me, tripping my opponent, who stumbles to the floor.

He's a bit thick, this kid. If by some miracle he manages to beat me here, and he won't, he'd never survive the Games. All offence and no thought behind it. No tactical planning. His attacks are so easy to read, so simple to block.

That said, he does have a lot of resiliency. He's on his feet in little more than a couple of seconds, charging me down again. Good. _His attacks are useless,_ I think as I parry two more blows.

But let the punches come. He can wear himself down, for all I care. It will just make my eventual victory all the more crushing.

I'm caught off guard by a change of tactics, but only briefly. Nathan tried to pull me to the floor by hooking his leg around my knees, and although I falter, I regain my balance in an instant. However, I don't have time to react to his next punch and I'm hit on the nose. Hard.

My eyes are watering as I reel away, and it takes me a moment to regain my sight. Okay, he's got quite a punch on him. I certainly wasn't expecting that. But now the time for play is over. I just want to win this.

For the first time, I'm on the offensive. I launch a series of punches and, to his credit, Nathan blocks the first few well. Maybe there is more to his fighting style than I first thought.

After six or seven punches, Nathan stumbles backwards, but as I come in for the finishing punch, he catches my first and pulls my arm down, dropping my head. From there, he reaches out, trying to force me into a headlock.

I swing a couple of weak punches at him with my free arm, but to no avail. Then I lean backwards with all my weight, forcing Nathan backwards. We fall together onto the floor of the stage.

As I roll away upon impact, I realise how near we have got to the edge of the stage. I take a few steps back, and corner Nathan as he stands at the edge of the stage. Now he's trapped.

Nathan tries to charge at me, but I duck underneath his punches, and I punch him hard in the stomach. Nathan bends over, staggering away from me towards the edge of the stage. He's defenceless. Now is my chance. I swing out with my right foot, catching Nathan firmly on the underside of his nose. The momentum carries him backwards, and he topples over the side of the stage, dropping fifteen feet before landing with a sickening crunch.

It's over. I've won. The crowd goes wild, and for a minute, I think that maybe District 4 is just as bloodthirsty as the Capitol. I guess anyone can enjoy a good, fair fight.

Peering over the edge of the stage, I can see four peacekeepers attending to a severely-injured Nathan Foster. He should never have volunteered, the fool.

I'm brought back to reality as Ludo grabs my hand and raises it high to the crowd, before leading me to the centre of the stage.

"So, here we have our two tributes for the 67th Annual Hunger Games!" says Flavius excitedly as me and Marline stand beside him.

"Please give a warm round of applause for Alec Flood and Marline Orman!"

As the crowd cheers, Flavius steps back, and I look straight at Marline. She's really unnerving, actually. Her lover lies unconscious fifteen feet below her, and yet her face remains as emotionless as earlier, her green eyes just as cold. I'm unsure whether she really cared for Nathan, if I'm honest. Surely no-one can be this emotionless? Maybe she just doesn't show emotions.

I'm not sure which Marline I prefer. A ruthless killer, who shows no remorse and no mercy, or a quick, intelligent girl who gives nothing away with mind Games? See, the mind Games have started already. I've known that I will be competing with her for ten minutes, and already she's messing with my head.

"Well then, shake hands," says Flavius quietly, away from the microphone. I do what he says quickly and emotionlessly. For a brief moment, my eyes meet Marline's. They are just as cold as before. Then Flavius is concluding the ceremony, and I'm whisked away into the Justice Building.

* * *

The sea breeze has a dramatic cooling effect, saving me from the searing heat of the July sun. My head throbs slightly from Nathan's punches, but it's nothing I can't deal with. I've had worse in the Training Centre.

All is silent, but for the slight crash of the waves on the beach below. I'm on the balcony of the Justice Building, looking out over the bay that contains the better-off part of District 4. I stand unmoving, taking in what might be my final sights of home. Not that I really care. I have no regrets over leaving District 4 behind.

I know that I am out here because before tributes are sent off to the Games, their friends and loved ones get a last chance to say goodbye.

When, after about ten minutes, the doors open on the balcony, I'm not surprised who I find when I turn to look back at them.

I was born in the docklands, the poorest area of District 4, where everyone lives in extreme poverty, of which there is very little hope of escape. My mother, who worked as a cleaner at the school, had got together with a young fisherman, and within a year, I was due to arrive.

Sadly, I never knew my father. He left my mother before I was born, leaving my mother to raise me alone.

However, my mother's wage alone wasn't enough to keep our heads above water, and our family began to decline into poverty. We were wasting away.

When I was eight, my mother died. The doctors blamed it on malnutrition. Not that we could have done anything to prevent it. As an eight-year-old orphan in District 4, I had two options; the orphanage or the Training Centre. And I chose the Training Centre.

Upon my arrival, a couple months before the 57th Games, I found the Training Centre an immediate improvement to the docklands. As the Training Centre provided me with an education (albeit one in weapons and fighting techniques), I was exempt from the regulation requiring all children under sixteen to attend school.

With a combination of a good diet, vigorous training and my muscular build, I had attracted a lot of attention from the trainers by the time I was ten. Even at that young age, I was stronger than most of the thirteen-year-olds in the Training Centre. One trainer, a past victor called Harrow, immediately saw my potential and started making up excuses to relieve me from regular classes to let me have one-on-one sessions with him. And by the age of sixteen, I was the strongest in the entire Training Centre. I put my name up to become the chosen Career two years early, but I lost out in the mock Games, finishing third behind two eighteen-year-old trainees. Not that it mattered, anyway; fourteen-year-old Ludovic Robertson's name was drawn for the 65th Games, and his best friend, young Finnick Odair, volunteered for him.

A year later, I won the mock Games in June, but three weeks later at the reaping, I was again denied the chance to volunteer, as eventual victor Ludo Robertson was reaped for the second year in a row. We never expected him to make it back. But by utilising the Career Alliance to his advantage and uncovering a previously-unknown knack for knife throwing, Ludo won the 66th Annual Hunger Games in just eight days. Considering he spent three of the days being brought back to consciousness by the allies he had won over, this was an impressive performance. And he racked up four kills along the way.

And now I'm here. Aged eighteen, the male tribute for District 4 in the 67th Annual Hunger Games. It's been hard getting here this year. Costa Finnigan put up quite a fight in the mock Games, and I had the fight on the stage with Nathan Foster earlier today, too. But now I'm here, that's all that matters. I've been preparing for this for ten years. I've got no regrets about volunteering. After all, I'm going to win.

"Alec, I'm proud of you, son," says Harrow behind me. The term of endearment only serves to emphasise our closeness. For these past few years, Harrow has treated me as the son he never had.

I turn to face him. Despite being thirty-seven, his body has not yet turned to waste as he trains regularly with the trainees back at the Training Centre. He's about five foot ten, and is slender in build. His long face is clean shaved, and his dark eyes are half-hidden by long strands of jet-black hair. He doesn't quite fit in with the stereotypical District 4 look.

"Well done for volunteering," continues Harrow. "It speaks volumes about you that you're brave enough to volunteer."

"Let's be honest, Harrow," I reply. "After the Training Centre, what is there left for me? Only a chance to give the Games a go. I have had no proper education, so getting a job in Four would be nearly impossible. And I don't want to go back to where I came from."

I hadn't ever really thought about after the Games before, but in saying it, I realise that if I hadn't volunteered for the reaping, I would have nowhere to go. If I'm too old for the reaping, as I will be next year, the Training Centre won't want me. These Games will make me or break me. Literally.

"I understand, Alec," replies Harrow solemnly. I can tell that even after my years of preparation, Harrow doesn't think I'm coming home.

"I didn't go through all those years of training for nothing, you know," I joke, forcing a smirk out of my former trainer.

"Alec, just remember that the arena is an ever-changing environment. Take nothing with a pinch of salt. Question everything. Constant vigilance is the key to success in the arena."

"Don't worry, Harrow," I say. "I'll stay aware."

"Try to join the Career Alliance," he says, something that all trainees are told they must do from the moment they first enter the Training Centre. I never questioned trying to join them. I know that they will want me on their side.

"The Alliance should see you through to the top eight," reminds Harrow. "After that, I'm sure you'll be able to dispose of the Careers."

Harrow pauses for thought before he continues speaking.

"You're the best tribute I've ever trained, son. I have every confidence in your abilities."

I'm slightly shocked by the truth in Harrow's words. I've know for years that I'm a good fighter, but a victor telling me I'm the best he's trained? True praise, indeed.

I start to reply, but two peacekeepers come in to escort Harrow away. He quickly rushes to continue speaking.

"I'm sorry I'm not your mentor, but I'll be making the journey to the Capitol with you. I can't guarantee we'll speak again until after the Games due to your tight schedule, but I'm sure Robertson will see you through this fine. Good luck, son."

"I'll see you soon, Harrow," I reply, and I see him threaten to tear up as the peacekeepers reach him. He acknowledges my goodbye with a slight nod before turning away from me to be escorted from the balcony.

And then he is gone.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for continuing to read this story, if you've read this far. I'd really appreciate some feedback, so please review if you enjoyed this chapter. As ever, I welcome constructive criticism.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks to Vykktor and richards25 for reviewing the previous chapters!**

**I apologise for the two-month hiatus in the writing of this story, I adopted other projects. Realising the need for a detailed back story to this novel, I ended up writing a series of oneshots, telling the story of every Hunger Games victor. Entitiled '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots', the story has allowed me to develop a complex series of backstories to this novel, which will only help in its realism.**

**Anyway now that I'm back writing for this story again, I hope you enjoy this belated fourth chapter :)**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**POV: Ludovic Robertson (16), Mentor for the Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Justice Building, District 4**

**2.25 pm, Sunday 14th July, year of the 67th Hunger Games**

* * *

"Now, if you would just sign_ here_ and _here_," gestures Flavius from across the table. I sit next to Finnick in comfortable wooden chairs upholstered with sky blue velvet. I had expected that, with the reaping over, we would be escorted straight to the station, where we would travel by train along with our tributes and escort to the Capitol. I remember the train rides last year. The first one was filled with doubts, the second with regrets. At least it looks like we have two capable Careers this year.

But it turns out mentors have more to do than I had thought. Once we had followed Flavius, Alec and Marline back into the Justice Building, Flavius led both Finnick and I into a small room that reminds me of a study on the second floor of the Justice Building.

Here, in the privacy of this small room, he told us that there are certain legal documents that we must sign as mentors. I'm sure that Finnick must already know this, as he's already had a year as a mentor, but although Flavius would only have needed to inform me, he directed his explanation at both of us.

He said that, whilst our tributes are in the custody of the Capitol, we should claim legal responsibility for them and become their acting guardians according to a principle that Flavius called_ loco parentis_. It's Latin for something, but I don't know what.

So me and Finnick have to sign these forms to say that we promise to take care of our tributes until they return home, either in a wooden box or as a victor. I try to read up and down the sheet of paper carefully, but Flavius interrupts me.

"Don't worry about all the small print, Ludo," he says. "It doesn't really apply to anything."

"Surely it does," I reply, slightly confused. "If it doesn't apply to anything, why write it in the agreement?"

"Trust me when I say that all it takes is common sense to keep on the right side of the agreement."

I look across at Finnick, and I see him leaning back in his chair, his forms on the table, already signed. I know that he can't have read all the small print that quickly. If Finnick trusts this agreement, why can't I?

Reluctantly, I sign the papers without reading through all the small print. I don't agree with it, though. I feel like I have just signed away my freedom. For the next month, I'll have to be constantly looking out for my tribute's welfare, even before they get to the arena. I doubt I'll get any time to myself.

But never mind. My eyes flit to the other signatures on the sheet; that of Flavius, our escort, and also the signature of Alec's stylist.

But it's not Julia.

The signature clearly reads Bellatrix Robertson.

My sister. A stylist in the Hunger Games. It all seemed slightly impossible. I knew that she had been one of the people of District 4 to have been chosen the batch of 'essential' workers sent to the Capitol two years ago. Roughly thirty of us go every year. I had been told that she was going to the Capitol to work in fashion. How anyone can see fashion as essential, I don't know, but apparently Capitol people can't live without their fashion.

"Flavius," I say with a touch of curiosity. "Why is my sister's signature on this form?"

"Your sister?" says Flavius, raising an eyebrow. "Hasn't she told you that she was a stylist last year?"

"She was in last year's Games, too?" I ask, shocked. It was quite a shock to find out that my sister is a fashion stylist in the Hunger Games, but it's even more of a shock to find out that my own sister must have been working against me.

"Yes, she was the reason that District Twelve had such a successful sponsorship campaign last year. She gave the Capitol audience great first impressions of her tributes."

Despite my shock at this revelation and my fury at the fact that this information has been kept from me, I also find myself feeling relief. At least Bella has already proven herself to be a successful stylist. Hopefully she will be able to help guide Alec towards victory in this year's Games.

It seems odd that she was stylist to someone that I knew in the arena. Timothy Fletcher. A young boy who died on the second day of my short Games. His district partner, however, is the reason that I am alive today. Sophia was there to nurse me back to health from my injuries sustained from battles during the Games, and watched my back as I lay unconscious in the arena. I really do owe Sophia Mellark with my life.

Flavius takes the papers back from me and Finnick and places them in a folder that he then carries under his arm as he stands to leave the room. Finnick and I follow suit and walk back down stairs where we rejoin the bustle of the Justice Building.

As we walk through towards the back of the building where we will be escorted to the station, I recognise a few faces among the crowd. One of them, Harrow, looks depressed, on the verge of tears. It must be hard for him, especially in the years that he isn't mentoring. He'll have spent the last six or seven years preparing these two for the most difficult month of their lives, and now he has to entrust their fate to somebody else. I'd never be prepared to do that.

"What's up, Harrow?" I ask cautiously, stopping him as we pass each other. "Been to see off Alec and Marline yet?"

"Yeah, I've been to see them," he sighs. "Promise me you'll get Alec back, Ludo?" he says pleadingly after a short pause.

I shrug before replying.

"I can't promise anything, Harrow. This is the Hunger Games, after all. You know that as well as anyone. But I will promise to try and bring him home. I'd be a fool to try and do anything else."

"Thank you," is all he can say by way of reply.

"Are you making trip to the Capitol this year, Harrow?" I ask, trying to change the topic of conversation.

"Yeah," he replies. "Nearly all of us are coming. Only Cale, Natalie and Danielle are staying."

"When does your train leave?" I ask.

"Seven this evening," he says. "I'd better go home and pack some belongings."

"Alright, Harrow," I reply. "I'll see you soon."

"See you tomorrow," he says, shaking my hand before disappearing into the crowd.

I don't know why I will be seeing him tomorrow, but I don't really know the timetable for victors in the week before the Games. I'm sure he knows it better than I do; his Games were nineteen years ago, three years before I was born.

I move as quickly as I can through the bustle of the Justice Building to catch up to Finnick and Flavius. They stand at the end of the long, wide corridor that runs through the centre of the Justice Building, and I notice immediately that something is wrong. Both my fellow mentor and our escort are talking in hushed tones to the mayor, surrounded by a guard of six peacekeepers. Clearly nobody is meant to hear what is being discussed, but I can tell from the concerned look on Finnick's face that it is nothing good.

As I arrive, the peacekeepers split to allow me through.

"What's happened?" I ask nervously, worried as to what has made these men appear so concerned.

Both the mayor and Flavius stay quiet, and Finnick looks back at them, as though he is unsure what to say. He looks back at the mayor, but he only shrugs, remaining quiet.

"Look, what's this about?" I say, becoming increasingly worried.

"It's about the fight at the reaping," says Flavius quietly.

"What about it? Have I broken some sort of rule?" I ask again, slightly frustrated now.

"No, no you haven't," continued Flavius. "In fact, you've probably made the reapings more interesting for the Capitol audience than they have been in years. Even if you have broken a rule, the Capitol won't punish you."

"So what's the issue?" I ask again. "Has Alec injured himself?"

"No, Robertson," says the mayor sullenly. "It's worse than that."

"Then what?" I ask, becoming increasingly worried for the welfare of my tribute, especially now that I have promised Harrow that I will do everything that I can for him.

Finnick sighs before he replies to my question.

"Ludo, Nathan Foster is dead."

"What?" I say incredulously as the fact sinks into my brain. I know that he was beaten up pretty badly, but nothing that Alec did to him could have killed him. It was an unarmed fight, after all.

"When he fell from the stage he broke his neck," says the mayor gravely. "We tried, but there was nothing we could do for him."

"I'm sorry to hear it," I say, but I don't mean it. Nathan Foster was an idiot. A complete imbecile. I feel no regrets over his death. He was an arrogant fool and he paid the price for his stupidity. I'm sure that Finnick has no love lost on him either. Karl Fisher and Nathan Foster were the two delinquents that got us expelled from school last September.

But I can't quite let Nathan Foster go. Not after what he did today at the reaping. He was willing to volunteer to save his lover when she was reaped; something I would never have dared to do. When Maddie needed me, I was a coward.

And I feel guilty about it.

"I'm sorry, but I need to leave," says the mayor worriedly. "His family must be informed."

"I understand," says Finnick. "We have a train to catch, anyway."

"Come along, you two," says Flavius, trying to make light of the situation as he leads us from the Justice Building to the car that will transport us to the station.

We arrive at the station within ten minutes, where Flavius drops us off before returning to the Justice Building to collect our tributes. I've only ever been onto the platform of District 4's small station once before, and last time one of my two best friends was by my side. This time, I'm accompanied by the other. I'm beginning to realise that this whole journey to the Capitol will force me to remember the horrors of last summer even more visibly than usual. I'm starting to regret volunteering to mentor.

As we approach the train, several eager Capitol journalists and reporters approach us, eager for a quick interview. I have very little patience for the press (I was sick of them by the end of last year's Games) but Finnick stops to satisfy the reporters. They ask the same sort of questions that they ask every year; what we make of this year's tributes, whether we think they can win or not. It only takes two minutes and a few suggestive poses from Finnick (I can already tell that his forced pretty-boy image is going to annoy me in the next month) for the journalists to leave us be and we board the train in peace whilst the crowds arrive to welcome our tributes.

And suddenly I am in yet another familiar environment. The same carriage on the train where I spent the night after the reaping last year. A large room split into three that primarily serves as the dining car. The section nearest to me holds luxurious leather chairs and sofas arranged around a glass coffee table. There is a large flat-screen TV positioned on the wall nearby, showing news broadcasts from the Capitol. It all means just as little to me as it did last year.

At the other end of the room there are two long wooden table laden with more food than you could possibly imagine; assorted meats, fish, many fruits, simply everything. And don't get me started on the desserts. I know that as long as we are in the Capitol, none of us will go hungry. I guess that is one of the perks of the job of being a mentor. I can't deny that it will be nice to spend a month in luxury.

In the centre of the room is a large wooden table with five chairs around it. A dining table where I remember eating dinner with Finnick and Flavius last year. The five chairs represent the five main members of this year's team; two tributes, two mentors and Flavius, the escort.

Finnick walks over to the hot drinks machine on one of the two long tables at the far end of the room. We are alone but for two Capitol assistants who stand in the doorways at either end of the dining car.

"Hot chocolate?" he calls, holding up a small white mug.

I nod and walk over to him as he sits down at the table in the centre of the room carrying two mugs full of the hot liquid. As I sit down next to him, he passes one of the mugs to me, and I savour its warmth against my hands. I slowly start to sip the sweet drink, careful not to burn my mouth.

"What do we do now?" I ask. As far as I am aware, Flavius isn't here yet.

"We wait," replies Finnick. "We wait until the tributes and Flavius get here. Although this would be an ideal time for a little mentor-to-mentor talk."

"What do you mean?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Well, what strategy do you have planned for Alec, Ludo?" he asks, trying to help me. I can tell that for the first few days, Finnick might end up advising me as much as the tributes. Then again, I can tell that mentoring isn't an easy job, and so I'm glad for all the help that I can get.

"He's been trained as a Career, so I'm assuming he'll try and join the Careers."

"No, there's your first mistake," says Finnick bluntly. "There's no assuming that the Career Alliance exists. Even though Districts One, Two and Four usually ally doesn't mean that they always will do. I didn't know until I was mentoring, but the mentors of the usual Careers always have to meet and agree that their tributes should ally. Some years one of the districts pull out, and the tributes from that district never approach the others to form alliances. It's all down to the mentors agreeing the deal."

"Ok, then," I say. "Should we try to talk to the mentors for Districts One and Two and ask them to ally their tributes with ours?"

"Yes, we should," Finnick replies. "But only once we've checked that our tributes are willing to join the alliances. Always respect their decisions. As much as you might want your tribute to do certain things, don't force them into anything. After all, it's their lives are at risk, not ours. We shouldn't ever make them feel pressured or uncomfortable."

"Ok, so what do you think that Marline will do, then?" I ask Finnick.

"Well, I can't take anything for granted," Finnick replies, taking a sip of his hot chocolate "But I assume that, given her training, she'll want to join the Careers. I'm a little worried for her, though."

"Why?"

"Because of what happened earlier. With Nathan Foster," Finnick says quietly, as though we shouldn't talk about it.

"What's the issue?" I ask.

"Well, you saw what they were like earlier," says Finnick, and I know what he means. "I doubt anyone has told her that he's dead. I'm worried that she'll lose it when she finds out."

I hadn't considered this. The events of the reaping could have negative repercussions on the rest of us. I doubt Alec will have issues. He's a Career; he'll know how to control his emotions. Marline may be a Career, but I'm a little unsure about her. She seems somewhat more... Human. I don't know why. I just can't imagine her reacting as well to the news as Alec.

"I'm going back to my room for a shower," says Finnick as he drains the last of his mug of hot chocolate. "I'll see you later."

* * *

Out of the windows of the dining car I can the sky tinged orange as the sun begins to set over Panem. We have been on the move for over five hours now, and finally all five of us gather around the flat-screen TV on the wall to watch the recap of today's reapings. Now we can see the competition for the first time.

We've already been through our plan of action with our tributes. All that matters to them now is that they will be spending tomorrow in the Remake Centre preparing for the tribute's parade during the opening ceremonies where they are paraded through the streets of the Capitol in front of thousands of cheering fans. The parade is the first chance for the Capitol citizens, who will provide sponsorship money to us if they want to support our tributes, to see the tributes up close. And, as the saying goes, you only get one chance to make a first impression.

Me and Finnick also know what we are aiming to do with out tributes. Both Marline and Alec seem determined to be members of the Career Alliance. And so, for the time being, we are all on the same side.

Flavius turns on the TV to one of the endless highlights reels of previous Games that seem to be replayed all the time. I know that this is preceding the reapings recap as I can hear the voices of Caesar Flickermann and Claudius Templesmith, the announcers for the Games, talking over the footage. The Games being shown, the infamous 36th, had neither Caesar nor Claudius as commentators originally.

I hate the footage of the 36th Games, as it held one of the most memorable events in the history of the Hunger Games. The Games had, in effect, been won in the first half an hour, when the cornucopia (the golden horn-shaped structure placed at the starting point of the Games that holds supplies) was blown sky-high with all six Career tributes still inside it, gathering supplies. One of the most poignant images of the Hunger Games was of Lilac Turner, the girl from District 2, staggering through the smoke of the burning cornucopia, her charred body still ablaze. She barely got ten steps before collapsing.

I never thought the scenes were particularly nice, but I never quite understood the atrocity until watching the highlights of the 36th Games after returning from the arena. Lilac Turner had been the daughter of a victor. The Capitol made an example of her, to show that not even a victor can escape the terror of the arena.

And from that moment onwards, I knew that I could never escape the grim reality of the Hunger Games.

I snap back to reality as the screen shows the square of District 1, the first of twelve reapings that we will have to sit through. I try my hardest to keep mental notes of who all the opposition. Alec will need to know as much about them as possible if he wants to defeat them all, and there's no better way of knowing your opposition well than by getting to know them as early as possible.

Both tributes from District 1 volunteer, as is expected. I assume that both of their tributes are this year's winners of their trials, as is the case with our district. The boy, whose name is Gabriel, looks to be a real threat. He's tall, and although he might not be the strongest tribute that Panem has ever seen, I bet that there's more to him than physical strength if he won the trials in District 1. The girl, whose name I don't quite catch, seems like an average District 1 girl. Nothing too special. She actually reminds me quite a lot of Pearl, the girl from District 1 in last year's Games, who I fought against in the arena.

Whilst still looking mightily impressive, the tributes of District 2 don't stand out as much as they have done in previous years. The boy, Orion, seems physically powerful, but seems the opposite of Gabriel. I'm sure hand-to-hand combat is his forte. He looks too stupid to be of much use with anything. That being said, I've learn never to underestimate a Career. The simple fact that he is from District 2 will mean that he will have sponsors flooding to him. The girl, Ashe, also seems predictable. She's by no means tiny (I'm sure that she's a few inches taller than me), but she won't win anything with physical power alone. Trap or ranged weapons; that's what she will be good with.

District 3's reaping passes quickly. Usually, their tributes are underfed and underprepared. This year they have even less chances than usual; both of their tributes are fourteen. Only one tribute has ever won the Games aged fourteen, and they are sitting on my right.

Then it is our reaping. We see Marline volunteer first, walking confidently onto the stage to stand beside Flavius. Then the boys are called, and I see both Alec and Nathan arrive on stage simultaneously. I then see myself take centre stage, and I quickly realise that they plan to show the whole of Alec and Nathan's fight. It's only when Alec lands his first punch on Nathan that I remember that we haven't told our tributes of Nathan's death. It's too late to do anything about it now, though.

We hear the announcer getting overly excited at the end of the fight as Nathan flies off of the stage, the rapturous applause of the crowd fitting the reaction of the commentary box perfectly. Then the screen fades to black, and I think we have managed to avoid telling the tributes of Nathan's death. I'm about to breathe a sigh of relief when, rather than moving on to District 5's reaping, the TV cuts back to the Capitol studio, where Caesar Flickermann, a man in his fifties who wears plentiful white makeup and, this year, orange highlights and an orange ponytail, has an announcement for us.

"We must most regrettably inform you," Caesar begins. "that Nathan Fostor died of his injuries shortly after his fal from the stage during the District Four reaping."

"What?" says Marline quietly, disbelieving at first. "He's dead," she whispers. "He's actually dead," she repeats. Marline looks accusingly across at Alec, who doesn't appear bothered by this turn of events.

If looks could kill, Alec would be a goner. But instead, Marline satisfies herself with giving a _very_ rude remark before storming out of the dining car.

Finnick, who appears very concerned, walks out after her.

"I'll go and sort her out," he says as he leaves us.

Then, when there are only three of us, Alec finally speaks up. "I'm not sorry that I killed him, you know," he says to me.

"I don't blame you," I reply. "He is - was - a complete idiot. I could have killed him nine moths ago at school. I swear that I was so close to doing it."

"Whatever did he do?" asks Alec, laughing.

"He provoked two victors," I reply, giving him a knowing look. Alec just laughs even more, and we waste away the evening joking with each other. He's a genuinely nice lad, Alec. Whatever he's been through in life, he's managed not to forget the most important things; how to have fun. I quickly realise that I don't just want him to survive the arena for Harrow, I want him to survive for himself.

He's a nice guy, and he deserves it.

* * *

**A/N: Anybody like the references to '75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots'? :)**

**If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks to Violagirl23, Vykktor, I-am-Cashmere-the-victor, richards25, mangesboy01 and DigbyThompson for reviewing the last chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter Five**

** POV: Ludovic Robertson (16), Mentor for the Male Tribute, District 4**

**The District 4 Tributes' Train, en route to the Capitol**

**7.30 am, Monday 15th July, year of the 67th Hunger Games**

* * *

I sit in front of the TV in a luxurious armchair, slowly sipping from another mug of hot chocolate. Excluding the Capitol attendant, nobody else has surfaced for breakfast yet.

In my other hand, my left, is a pen, and I have a notepad on my knees with the half-finished notes that I took last night visible on the paper. After Marline's dramatic (and very disrespectful) exit last night, I haven't seen either Finnick or his tribute. As for Alec, I know that we stayed up quite late into the night, so I'm not expecting to see him any time soon. Then again, we don't arrive in the Capitol until ten o'clock, so he can afford to sleep in. I'll wake him at nine if he hasn't shown his face in the dining car by then.

In the meantime, I've got a reapings recap to watch. We only got through the first four districts last night before our attention was broken, and so now I have to make sure that we catch up.

From the first four reapings, I manage to catch the name of the girl from District 1; Amethyst. At least now I can name all the possible Careers.

It turns out that I didn't miss much from many of the reapings. Both from Districts 5 and 6 don't look to pose any serious threats, although the boy from District 7 seems to be well-built and one of the few eighteen-year-olds to have been reaped so far. Even though the way that slips are proportioned in the reaping bowl means that more elder tributes should be reaped, it seems as though the average age of the tributes is remarkably young this year. The average must be about fifteen. Then again, I'm not going to complain. This means that less tributes are likely to make a stand against Alec, increasing his chances of survival even further.

Past District 7, very few of the tributes look anything other than terrified. The pick of the tributes from the outer districts is the boy from District 10, who is the oldest of all of them and they only one to hold anything other than minimal physical presence. Still, he doesn't worry me. In comparison to Alec, he is nothing. I doubt that he will be well-prepared for these Games, either physically or mentally.

Eventually, after watching all twelve reapings again, the recap ends, by which time Finnick has arrived for breakfast. Feeling hungry myself, I stand up, turn off the TV, grab some toast and sit down next to Finnick at the dining table.

"Morning, Finnick," I say brightly.

"Morning," he replies rather formally.

"What happened with Marline last night?" I ask. I was slightly worried about her after the reaping recap, and I'm eager to know how she is coping with the news.

"I was really worried that she was going to just give up."

"I was, too," says Finnick. "Especially when she started telling me that everyone that she knew that was worth living for was dead. She has nothing left in life for her to live for."

"So she is giving up, then?" if so, then as harsh as it sounds, Finnick might as well channel his resources into Alec too. If Marline is resigned to her death, there's little that Finnick and I will be able to do for her. We might as well focus all our efforts on getting Alec out of the arena alive.

"No, she's not," Finnick replies. "She now says that because there's nothing else left for her, she can afford to put everything into the Games, and bury her grief in her training. If anything, Nathan's death has spurred her on."

Finnick suddenly cuts off as another figure walks through the door into the dining car; Alec.

I'm finally starting to truly appreciate having Alec as my tribute. He's tall, probably a couple of inches over six feet, and his broad, stocky body has clearly benefitted from years of rigorous training, the muscles in his arms well-toned and perfectly sculpted. When it comes to gaining sponsors, a powerful physique is a must-have. He's rather good-looking, too, beneath shortly-cut auburn hair. He's no Finnick Odair, but he's good enough looking to attract attention from Capitol sponsors. Of course, with a jovial attitude, bright eyes and a winning smile to add to his merits, the sky's the limit for Alec this year. I really believe that he will be capable of going all the way.

After visiting the long table at the end of the room that is now laden with breakfast foods to grab two rounds of toast, Alec makes his way to my end of the room and plants himself in a chair next to mine. As much as I know that Alec will be a threat in the arena already, I don't really know much of Alec the tribute. What's his fighting style? Does he have any weaknesses? Does he favour the Career Alliance, or does he prefer working on his own? I just don't know. All I know is that he's half decent in hand to hand combat, but that's no secret; all of Panem knows it.

"So," I start as he places his plate on the coffee table in front of him. "Is there anything you think that I should know about you before we reach the Capitol?"

Alec raises an eyebrow at my question.

"Well, what do you mean?" he asks.

"Ok, let me explain," I reply. "Obviously, every tribute has their own fighting style, their own unique look, their own on-screen persona. I just want to know how you want to be portrayed."

"So I get a say?" Alec asks, surprised. "From what Harrow told me, it was entirely up to the mentors and stylists."

"It used to be," says Finnick. I wasn't even aware that he was listening in on the conversation. "But things have changed since Harrow was a tribute. Nowadays, we can see that it's beneficial for tributes to have a say in what happens to them. It's their life at risk, after all."

"Well, I've never doubted that I'll join the Careers," begins Alec, filling me with confidence. He might be playing it safe with a well-used strategy, but at least he'll be able to survive. "As for fighting style, I'll take anything that's used for close combat. Swords, maces, daggers, axes - you name it, I'd use it. Of course, I'd even use my fists if I have to. As for ranged weapons, I tend to avoid them. I'm half decent with a spear, but aside from that, I don't touch them."

Sounds like a typical Career. Nothing too taxing from a mentor's perspective.

"What about your appearance in front of the cameras before the Games?" I ask. If anything, that is the most important aspect when it comes to gaining sponsors.

"I guess I'd play it safe and be a stereotypical Career," he begins, making me feel even more relieved about my role. "Act tough and powerful, and the audience will love me."

I nod in agreement, realising that Alec probably knows as much about the roles of a Career as I do. He's spent all his teenage years preparing for this moment. I'd be a fool to think that he hasn't gotten it all worked out.

"All right," I say, standing to leave. I need to prepare for our arrival. "We arrive in the Capitol within an hour, so make sure that you're looking good. You won't get a second chance to make a good first impression."

* * *

"This is what I've been trying to tell you," says Finnick, almost apologetically. We are in the Remake Centre in the Capitol, being escorted down a long corridor to a large function room where the mentors are kept whilst their tributes are being prepared for the tributes' parade that takes place later this evening. We've already dropped off Alec and Marline, with District 4's new stylists. I haven't even met them yet. We won't get to see then until later this afternoon. Of course, I know Alec's stylist; Bella is my sister, after all. However I know nothing of Marline's stylist, Octavian, other than that he was the one who made the girl from District 12, Sophia, stand out in last year's parade.

"I know that there's no way that Marline will involve herself with Alec during the Games," continues Finnick. I can sense the disappointment in his voice. "She still blames him for what happened to Nathan, and won't even speak to him at the moment."

"So she won't be joining the Careers?" I ask, now worried myself.

Finnick shakes his head.

"Not if Alec does," he says. "Marline will put herself out that much to avoid him. She won't be showing him any mercy in the arena, that's for sure."

Marline's refusal to cooperate with Alec is certainly an inconvenience, but I know that I'll be able to work around it.

"So, are we still going to try and get Alec into the Career Alliance?" I ask, knowing that even if Finnick won't help me, I'll still make the effort to get Alec into the alliance.

"Sure, I'll help," replies Finnick. I know that he's trying to guide me through this; this is my first full day as a mentor and I'm feeling a little out of my depth, so I'm glad of his support. "Of course, it all depends on who the mentors are for Districts One and Two."

I hadn't yet considered the possibility of other mentors not wanting to work with us, but that could be a serious threat to the alliance. Aside from Blight and Haymitch, who are the only living victors from their respective districts, I have no idea who the other twenty mentors in this year's Games are.

"As long as they're willing to join, we'll be fine, right?"

Finnick nods in agreement, and then politely holds open the door to me as we enter the room at the end of the corridor.

The large communal room, which is on the top floor of the Remake Centre, shows off Capitol luxury at its finest. Like the rest of the Remake Centre, the room has one wall made entirely out of glass, offering simply stunning views over the Capitol. The room is filled with tables laden with food, and plush seats lie around the room in groups where I can see previous victors conversing in small groups. Although there are a lot of faces that I recognise, it seems like there are already more than twenty-two of us here, and I doubt that me and Finnick are the last to arrive, either.

My thoughts are almost immediately confirmed as I watch a tall, slender figure with long black hair approach me out of the crowd.

"Harrow!" I exclaim as the man reaches me. "I wasn't expecting to see you here!"

"Weren't you told that all victors were invited to this get-together, not just the mentors?" he says excitedly. "Nearly all of us are here. How are things for team District Four?"

I take a moment to think of an answer before replying to him.

"Not well," I say, but after a very concerned look being given by Harrow, I quickly try to reassure him. "Alec is fine, it's just Marline. After, well, what happened at the reaping, she's refusing to speak to Alec, let alone work with him in the Career Alliance. As far as I'm aware, she plans to have no role with the other Careers and work alone simply because she can't stand Alec."

"And?" says Harrow, shrugging. "Let her do what she wants. If she won't cooperate with your plans, don't force her to. It's her life, it's her decision."

I nod in agreement with him, as he was basically confirming what Finnick and I had decided to do anyway.

"I assume you're going to book Alec a place in the alliance?" Harrow says eagerly.

"Yeah, we are," I say confidently. "Finnick and I are going to find the mentors for Districts One and Two and book Alec a place."

As I say this, I try and locate Finnick amongst the crowds, as he has wandered off to talk to several victors who he hasn't seen in at least a year. I finally locate him talking to a young woman from District 8 named Cecelia, who has a three-year-old son clinging shyly to her side. I then see Julian walk over to them, and the three end up laughing over a rather trivial joke.

"I guess I should let you get on with your business," says Harrow. "I'll see you at the parade this evening, Ludo."

"See you later, Harrow," I say as the Hunger Games veteran walks off into the crowds.

As I slowly walk over to Finnick, I start to properly take in the atmosphere of the event. It feels as though we are at some sort of school reunion, where everyone is in busy conversation discussing everything that life has thrown at them in recent years. Music is playing quietly in the background, adding to the upbeat atmosphere.

"Excuse me, can I borrow Finnick for a moment?" I ask as I reach the three victors.

"Of course," is Cecelia's quick reply. She seems kind, but I've never really spoken to her. This is only the second or third time that I've met her, and all of them have been fleeting visits.

"Have you found out who the mentors for the other Career districts are yet?" I ask Finnick as we leave Cecelia and Julian behind.

"Yeah," he replies optimistically. "The District One mentors are the same as last year, Cashmere and Gloss. I'm not sure about District Two, but I'm sure one of those two will know."

"Any idea where they are?" I ask.

Finnick shakes his head before we both search the room for any sign of the two young victors from District I spot them looking out over the Capitol the large glass window, and Finnick and I make our way through the crowds to find them.

Finnick runs up behind Gloss, muffled by the noise of the room and startles him by jumping on him from behind, making Cashmere laugh as Gloss tries to wrestle Finnick off of him. Being the youngest four victors here, Finnick and I get along well with the two twins from District 1, who won in consecutive years; the 63rd and 64th Games, respectively.

After a few minutes of greetings and catching up after the events of the last year, we finally got down to the business in hand.

"How're your tributes this year?" asks Finnick, starting to set in motion the move that we all want to complete.

"My tribute, Gabriel, is sure to be a contender," grins Gloss. "I've been watching him at the Training Centre in District One for the last few years. When I volunteered, he was already being noticed an he was a year younger than me."

"Our lad's been well known in our district for years, too," says Finnick, trying to make light of Gloss' claims.

"The important thing for us," I continue on Finnick's behalf. "Is that the two can work together as allies during the Games."

"I suppose you want our tributes to form the Career Alliance?"

"Yeah."

"Sure," says Gloss happily, and we shake upon the deal. "Your tributes look like worthy allies."

"_Tribute_," Finnick corrects Gloss. "_Tribute_. Singular. Only Alec will be joining the alliance."

"Well, what about your tribute, Marline?" asks Cashmere.

"She'd rather work alone," says Finnick diplomatically. I'm glad he's chosen not to reveal the true reason why Marline won't be joining. The last thing we could do with now is for the people who will eventually become our competition knowing our secrets.

"Will Amethyst be joining this alliance, too?" I ask Cashmere, who is Amethyst's mentor. "If she wants to join, of course," I add, so as not to sound forceful.

"Yeah, I'm sure that she will," Cashmere says. "I'll still need to check it through with her, but I'm sure that she'll join once I've asked her."

"Ok," I say to both mentors. "Thanks."

"Do you know who's mentoring District Two this year?" Finnick asks Gloss.

"Yeah, it's the Catos," replies Gloss. "Amadeus and Brutus. They're over by the bar if you want to talk to them. Me and Cashmere went to speak to them earlier, but Brutus rejected our advances straight away, so I doubt they'll be allied to us this year."

"Alright, thanks," says Finnick. "We'll go and speak to them, then."

We walk amongst the crowds to the bar at the back of the large room, where the three generations of the Cato family stand in conversation. The eldest, Amadeus, is possibly the most famous and respected of all Hunger Games victor, and is known for the fact that he won the 8th Annual Hunger Games in under twenty-four hours. Now, even in his seventies, he's a living legend in the eyes of Panem. His son, Brutus, continued the family tradition nearly thirty years later, setting another record in the process of doing so; fifteen kills in the arena, a feat that has never been equalled. As for Brutus' son, well... His first born, Quintus Licinius Cato, met his demise in the Games last year, courtesy of my sword hand. It's a moment that I never want to have to relive, but do every night in my dreams. I never wanted to kill Quintus; not really, anyway. He was a charismatic, vibrant figure, very similar to Alec. But survivalistic instincts kicked in, and he was unlucky enough to be the one who was the threat to me.

Brutus' younger son, however, lives on, eleven-year-old Sextus Aurelius Cato. He looks just like his grandfather did at a young age, and I don't doubt that he will follow in the family footsteps when the time comes. But for now, my attention must be on the two victors in the Cato family.

"Come looking for a drink, Robertson?" says Amadeus, chuckling slightly. He seems to be the only one in his family who can look past the fact that I killed Quintus. I know that as he's willing to joke with me about a rough night I spent getting completely drunk at a Capitol party last summer shortly after my Games. _Never again_, I said that day, and so far I've stuck to my promise.

"No, not me," I say. "Finnick might, but I've not been near the stuff since last summer."

Amadeus chuckles again and Finnick barely manages to suppress a smirk as he orders wine from the bar. Brutus, however, remains silent, appearing sullen and uncommunicative towards us.

"There's no point wasting time," I say, quickly getting down to business. "We're here to see if your tributes would want to join an alliance along with the tributes from our district and District One."

"No."

The blunt answer is the first thing that I have heard Brutus say since we arrived. I turn to face him as he continues speaking.

"After what happened last year, I don't want my tributes involved with your district."

His words sting, but I don't blame Brutus. I can understand if he holds a grudge against me; I killed his eldest son. I can't deny that I feel guilty about his death.

"And you, Amadeus?" asks Finnick, taking a sip from his wine.

"My tribute, Ashe, has already expressed her interest in joining the Careers. After all, she was trained to become one. I'm sure that she'll want to join, having hear your offer."

"Ah, good," says Finnick, looking pleased. "Thanks for your help with the alliance. Now, if you don't mind, may I get back to some friend who I have left waiting?"

"Of course," says Amadeus politely, and I watch Finnick saunter off through the crowds to where Julian and Harrow are standing in conversation with two older victors from District 2, named Cicero and Lucas.

I turn to leave, but realise that I can't without at least mentioning again that I feel guilty for killing Quintus. Turning back to Amadeus and Brutus, I try to gain their attention.

"I, er, I just thought I should apologise again for what happened last year," I stammer. "With Quintus, I mean." I look down shamefacedly at the floor. I can't best to look at the relatives of the boy that I killed.

"Look, Roberston," says Amadeus calmly. "Nobody blames you. We were all in that situation once. You had no alternative."

I don't know what to say, and neither does Brutus, by the look of it. After a short silence, Amadeus continues, trying to lighten the mood.

"You shouldn't be worry about such things at your age, anyway," he continues. "You've got your whole life ahead of you. Go and put some fun into your life. Maybe even try the alcohol again," he jokes.

"Thanks," I say. "I'll try and enjoy myself, although I think I'll pass on the alcohol. I wouldn't want to end up like Haymitch."

I can hear Amadeus chuckling again as I turn to leave the bar behind me. I get ten paces before I feel someone tap on my shoulder, and I turn to face them.

It's Sextus Cato.

Even though he's five years younger than me, he only has a couple of inches off of me. Aside from his figure, which is considerably more stocky than mine, we slightly resemble each other. His blond hair may be more closely cropped than mine, but we both have the same spark in our bright blue eyes. I can tell that he's a determined character, although not as arrogant as his brother.

"Hey," I say casually. "What's up, er..."

"Please, don't bother with my full name. Nobody ever does anymore, especially not since my brother died. They said that to call men Sextus - the sixth child - was to remind everyone too much of the fifth Cato - Quintus. And I don't care for Aurelius either; it's too Capitol-sounding for me. So please, just call me Cato."

To be honest, when he approached me, I never expected for it to be for friendly conversation. But I'm pleased that he doesn't seem to hate me like his father.

"Alright, Cato," I say, trying to be friendly. "By the way, it's Ludo," I say, holding out a hand to him, which he grasps as we shake hands.

"I just came to say that you really shouldn't listen to my father," he says. "Even though my own brother died, I don't blame you for Quintus' death. Yes, I grieved him with the rest of my family, but I accepted that it wasn't your fault. Please ignore my father, I can see that it pains you."

I have to say, I never expected a child who has certainly spent all his life knowing that he will be a Career to be so... _Caring_. But here stands Sextus Cato, showing me that maybe Careers can have compassion too. And I have to say, I value his words. It's nice to know that he doesn't hate me for killing his brother.

"Thanks," I say. "I'll try not to listen."

"Sorry I bothered you," he says, seeming slightly shy suddenly. "I guess I should rejoin my family."

"Yeah, you do that," I say reassuringly. "And it was no bother for me at all. So long, Cato."

I watch the young boy walk away for a few moments before turning and letting myself get absorbed in the atmosphere of the moment.

* * *

**Sorry if there are formatting errors in this chapter, I'm having to upload on my iPod due to technical difficulties. Please let me know if there are any errors or mistakes.**

**Also, I apologise if updates for this are irregular, I'm writing this alongside another story, "75 Games, 75 Victors, 75 Oneshots", which basically has a little of the backstory of every victor to be mentioned in this story, and a few more, too! If you haven't read it yet, I'd recommend checking it out. I last updated it yesterday.**

**Finally, if you enjoyed the chapter, please review! As ever, constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks to Vykktor, richards25 and mangesboy01 for reviewing the last chapter!**

* * *

**Chapter Six**

** POV: Ludovic Robertson (16), Mentor for the Male Tribute, District 4**

**The Remake Centre, The Capitol**

**8.15 pm, Monday 15th July, year of the 67th Hunger Games**

* * *

The walk back through the stable on the ground floor of the Remake Centre towards the District 4 chariot is short, and we reach our tributes' chariot within a minute. After our quick talk with Cashmere and Gloss at the front of the procession near the District 1 chariot, we walk back defeated. After our advances being rejected earlier in the day, the primitive alliance formed earlier in the day has now been abandoned. Without the support of District 2, the alliance won't be strong enough. And so, along with Finnick, I have agreed with the mentors of District 1 that this year, there will be no pre-agreed Career Alliance. If our tributes ally, then so be it. But we're no longer pressuring them to. After looking at all the tributes at the reaping, Alec is amongst the strongest individuals. Maybe it's better for him if there are no alliances.

Flavius greets us as we arrive back at our chariot, and I walk over to Alec, who is in conversation with Bella.

It's been two years since I last saw Bella. Until today. Not much about her has changed, if you exclude the garish Capitol costumes that she has taken to wearing. Her long, wavy dark brown hair hasn't changed; she's still easily recognisable by it. Clever, extroverted and always in touch with her surroundings, Bella is perfect for her role in one of the coveted positions as a stylist in the Hunger Games. And for District 4, no less. One of the most highly thought-of districts.

Life, and the Games in particular, have changed both of us, but I find that we get on much as we did prior to her leaving the family home aged eighteen, just before I was reaped for Finnick's Games. It feels good to know that both my family and my best friend are with me and on my side in the Capitol, where the life of a charming young man is in our hands.

That charming young man, Alec Flood, sits on the edge of our chariot, talking to Bella. My sister gained her promotion (I believe it's a promotion) from styling District 12 due to the brilliant costumes that she made for their tributes last year. However, whatever creative ideas she had for District 12 won't suit our district. I had hoped that Bella and Octavian would have equally unique costumes for our tributes this year, but now I am forced to realise that this won't be the case.

This year, after the stripped-down, simplistic costumes that Julia and Lucius have given District 4 tributes in the last few years, Bella has given Alec a more traditional costume for District 4. In shape, it isn't too different to what I wore in the tribute's parade last year; a plain, sleeveless tunic. The difference us that Alec's costume is covered in thousands of small sequins. From a distance, it gives the impression that Alec is covered in scales, like those of a fish. He won't have any props or anything; I imagine he'll give the usual Career cold-but-deadly look during the parade. I have no worries for the parade. Even if Alec goes out there during the parade looking like a total moron (and trust me, most of the other tributes look much worse than him), he'll still attract the attention of the crowd due to his physical prowess and the prestige that he gains from being from a Career district.

"Hi," I say as I reach Alec, and both my sister and my tribute turn to face me.

"Hey," replies Alec calmly, but I can tell from the way that he's looking around to the other chariots that he's slightly nervous. It's not everyday that two hundred thousand people are waiting to stare at you; to decide whether they think that you are likely to die or not.

"Are you all ready for the parade?" I ask. It starts at nine. Judging by the clock on the wall, we're forty minutes from the parade. As a mentor, I have to leave the Remake Centre at half-past eight, to let me take my place with my fellow victors in the audience. I only have ten minutes, so I'd better get my point across quickly.

"Yeah," says Alec quickly again.

"What do you think of the costume?" asks Bella. I can tell that she's nervous by the way that she's wringing her hands. It's a big day for all of the stylists.

"I like it," I say, both out of honesty and out of the need to reassure Alec that this evening will work out fine for him. "It's simple yet traditional. Combine that with Alec's good looks and powerful physique, and I think we're on to a winner."

My compliments make both members of our team smile, and I can see Alec's doubts vanishing quickly. But I still have to know that he's fine.

"You're not worried, are you?" I ask him.

He sighs before answering.

"I guess not," he shrugs. "I know that nothing should go wrong, but I can't help worrying that something will."

"Everyone has nerves, Alec," I say reassuringly. "I was nervous before my parade, but everything was fine for me."

"You're right," he says. "Just because I'm a Career doesn't mean that I'm emotionless. But it does mean that I'm easily able to suppress them," he says positively. "I'm not used to being the centre of public attention, but if I'm going to do something new, I might as well commit to it."

_That really is the attitude and determination that I want from my tribute._ Suddenly I'm sure that Alec will be fine in the parade. Everything will work out for him.

I feel someone tap on my shoulder, and it's Flavius, with Finnick by his side.

"Ludo, it's almost eight-thirty," says Flavius impatiently, pointing to the expensive watch on his left wrist. "Are you ready to leave yet?"

"Sure," I reply. "I'm ready."

I turn to face Alec before leaving.

"Don't worry, everything will work out fine," I say as I follow Flavius and Finnick from the Remake Centre.

* * *

"Out come the tributes of District One, Gabriel Samson and Amethyst Green!"

As Caesar Flickermann's voice booms out around the crowds, all eyes turn to the large screensboyt up around the City Circle. Along with the other victors, mentors and stylists, I have a front-row seat in the City Circle, meaning that I get a perfect view of all the tributes together at the end of their parade. However, we have to rely solely on the large screens around the City Circle for the first twenty minutes because it will take the first chariot, which belongs to District 1, that long to travel along the high street to reach us.

"What do you think, then?" brags Gloss jokingly. The young victor from District 1 sits behind me in the audience.

"Not bad," says Blight, a man in his early forties who mentors District 7 as their sole living victor. "Wait for mine, you'll be in for a real surprise," he says sarcastically.

"Are they dressed as trees again, Blight?" jokes Finnick, to which most of the victors around us laugh.

"Just because our stylists actually attempt something original doesn't mean that you have to moan to us," taunts Cashmere further, causing Blight to turn away, red-faced.

By now, the first three chariots are out in the streets, and I have to say, both Districts 1 and 2 have put on a good show. District 3's tributes are weak and small, which is enough to cancel out any effort that their stylists have put in.

And then it's our turn.

"Introducing the tributes of District Four, Alec Flood and Marline Orman!"

Another roar erupts from the crowd as our tributes emerge from the Remake Centre, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I realise that Alec will be fine. He looks nervous as the chariot first comes out, but he appears relieved as the noise from the crowd increases. Slowly he starts to become less isolated from the crowd as he realises their warm welcome. I can see his confidence growing as chariots behind him don't make as much of an impression as him.

Then come District 7, and all the mentors laugh as Blight turns away shamefacedly, with his tributes dressed as trees for what feels like the fortieth consecutive year.

Finnick, however, remains silent next to me, his lips pursed in concentration, his eyes never averting their gaze from Marline.

His tribute remains stationary in the District 4 chariot, staring straight ahead. With Octavian's work, Marline looks simply stunning, as the vivid lights used to brighten the Capitol high streets accentuate her qualities perfectly. However she does nothing to enhance her friendliness with the Capitol crowds; she appears indifferent to them, staring straight ahead as the procession moves towards the City Circle. Finnick seems so locked in concentration on her. I could tell from before the reaping that Marline had a cold exterior, but I'm convinced that the news of Nathan's death will change nothing with that except to make her even colder. It's a shame, but I guess that she's so certain of her personality that she'll win over quite a few sponsors for it anyway. I know that ultimately Marline will be competition for Alec, but if anything happens to him, it's nice to know that the other tribute for District 4 also stands a good chance of winning the Games.

As the parade continues, I begin to notice attention being drawn to the District 9 chariot due to the small, hyperactive boy who represents them. It seems as though, considering his age and size, he already knows what will be his eventual fate, and so he's just out there having fun, and not caring about the consequences. Considering what he's about to be going through, it's not a bad strategy.

"Not bad enthusiasm for a thirteen-year-old, eh?" smiles Marcel, the middle aged man who mentors the boy, who sits on my left.

"He'll be sure to win over quite a few sponsors," I reply, trying to keep my eye on Alec and Marline as the first chariot makes its way into the City Circle to be greeted by rapturous applause.

"There's some hope for young Harold," he replies, although I can tell that he thinks that his tribute won't survive the Games. He's a nice lad, but only liars, traitors, thieves and murderers prosper in the arena. His type will never win the Games, and I know this as well as everyone.

As all twelve chariots filter into the City Circle, I take another chance to survey the opposition.

As usual, the Career tributes of Districts 1, 2 and 4 outshone the others, especially (to my enjoyment) Alec and the District 1 female, Amethyst, who has used her physical beauty to her advantage to gain support of the Capitol crowd during the parade so far. Combine that with her obvious weapons training, and she's bound to be a real contender.

Of the outer districts, District 7's Vincent has stood out, due to his physique and genuine likeable character, even though he has been dressed as a tree this evening. Harold of District 9 seems to have gained sympathy from the audience tonight due to his eagerness and bright character, and the male from District 10 might be able to hold his own in the arena. As for the girls from the non-Career districts, few look like much. Maybe the girls from Five and Six look rather confident, but aside from them, if none of the Career females win the Games, this year's victor will almost certainly be a boy.

The crowds calm down as President Coriolanus Snow comes out onto the balcony of his mansion in the City Circle to greet this year's batch of tributes. the background music that has been playing throughout the procession ends with added flourish, and the whole crowd goes silent to hear the first words of the President of Panem's speech. The night sky is clear, and the air is beginning to become crisp as the time reaches nine-thirty. The walls of the buildings around the City Circle hold large screens which show the TV broadcast that is currently being aired all around the nation. Most of the time, the cameras are either focused on the tributes or the President as he begins his speech to officially open the 67th Annual Hunger Games.

The speech is short and contains much the same things as every year; lots of compliments thrown at the tributes, reminding them of the pride, honour and sacrifice that the Games entail. These compliments are slipped into a speech that mainly serves to remind the population in the districts that the Capitol's power is overwhelming and undefeatable, and that the price of the rebellion has still not been paid. Of course, the speech ends with the usual line:

"Happy Hunger Games, tributes. And may the odds be ever in your favour."

And then it is over.

The chariots slowly circumnavigate the City Circle once before leading away into the Training Centre to the sound of loud applause and overly joyful music.

It's another twenty minutes before I manage to rejoin my tribute in the bottom floor of the Training Centre, where the tributes will be held until the Games begin for real next Sunday. Alec has just dismounted from the chariot when I arrive, and is in conversation with Flavius. The two stylists are gone; talking to their Capitol friends at the District 11 chariot. This leaves Marline sitting along on the edge of the chariot, her feet dangling over the edge, staring into nothingness. She genuinely seems to want to be as far from Alec as possible.

My tribute, on the other hand, seems almost too enthusiastic and clearly high on adrenalin as I arrive.

"How was that?" he asks, buzzing over towards me.

"Great," I say confidently. "Certainly good enough to put you in with the front-runners in the race for sponsors."

Alec laughs before replying.

"I'm glad," he says, still grinning. "Anybody else look good?"

"The other Careers, obviously," I reply. "District One look like the real competition this year. Add in the boy from Seven and maybe those from Nine and Ten, and you'll be in for a good fight this year, for sure."

"What did District Nine do?" asks Alec, raising an eyebrow. "When I had a look at their tributes, I thought they were weak."

"Don't worry, they _are_ weak," I say reassuringly. "The boy was a bit hyped up during the parade. He got quite a lot of the crowd on his side, so he'll be near the front in the race for sponsors. Thankfully for us, his training score will pull him down; I doubt he'll manage more than a five."

"What about District Two?" Alec asks, eager for more information. "Surely they are still a threat?"

"They are, but between us and District One, they've almost been forgotten. So far, they have nothing over you."

Alec merely nods in reply to this.

"I trust that you understand that training starts at ten tomorrow morning?" I ask, to which Alec nods once again.

"You'd better head up to our floor with Flavius, then," I say. "He'll be able to-"

"Hey, Ludo!" It's Finnick, along with the District 1 mentors, Cashmere and Gloss.

"What is it?" I ask, slightly annoyed. I was in the middle of explaining tomorrow to Alec.

"You coming out with us tonight?" asks Gloss brightly. "We're going out to this private party for the evening. Some rich Capitol businessman wants to hold this event, and some of us victors have been invited as guests of honour."

"And?" I say stubbornly. "Haven't we got tributes to mentor?"

"They'll be fine," says Finnick encouragingly. "It's only one evening."

"Plus, Auriel and Holly are coming too," adds Cashmere. "Come on, it'll be a laugh! Free drinks all around!"

Now I really don't know what to do. Maybe I should go with them. I do enjoy spending time with other victors. They are the only people who genuinely understand what I've been going through since the Games. They seem as though the care. I feel as though they are my friends.

But I have a duty as a mentor, and a promise to keep to Harrow. Combine that with a morbid fear of alcohol (I'm _never_ going to repeat the victory celebrations after my Games last year), and I realise how I'm going to spend the evening.

"You can go without me," I say. "Training starts in the morning, and I'm going to give Alec all the help that I can."

* * *

**Apologies in advance for any errors, I'm stuck on my iPod again due to computer-related issues. Please let me know if and where there are errors.**

**If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! As ever, I'm welcoming constuctive criticism :)**

**P.S. Alec will be back next chapter... :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks to Violagirl23, Vykktor, mangesboy01, richards25 and MJElliot for reviewing!**

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**POV: Alec Flood (18), Male Tribute, District 4**

**Floor 4, The Training Centre, The Capitol**

**8.45 am, Tuesday 16th July, year of the 67th Hunger Games**

* * *

"Alec!"

I groan as I slowly come to my senses. I can hear the rain patter faintly against the windows of my room in the Training Centre, where I will remain until the Hunger Games begin. A glance across at the clock at my bedside tells me that it's a quarter to nine.

"Alec!"

It's Ludo, who seems to be irritated by my late waking time.

"Alec, training starts in just over an hour! You need to get up now!"

I sigh, because after the late evening last night due to the parade, a good night's sleep is about the best thing that I can get.

"Alright, I'm coming," I say, reluctantly rising from my bed. I hurriedly rush into the shower before quickly dressing in yesterday's clothes as I hurry down the corridor towards the dining room for breakfast. At the table Ludo and Finnick sit talking, and I can see Finnick taking tablets to deal with his hangover from the previous night's antics. I remember him staggering in at midnight last night, barely able to stand up. No wonder he's struggling today.

I grab two rounds of toast from the breakfast table at the side of the room and sit down next to Ludo.

"Nice to see you turn up," he jokes.

"Some of us need our sleep," I reply, echoing his tone.

Ludo laughs before directing our conversation onto the business in hand.

"Anyway, training starts in an hour. Flavius will take you down to the gymnasium at quarter to ten. Sadly, I can't guarantee you any allies yet; District 2 haven't been most co-operative this year."

The news is disappointing, but not devastating. I know that I should be able to survive the arena without allies, if it comes to it.

"So I'll be finding my own allies?" I ask.

"Essentially, yes," nods Ludo. "I'd recommend allying with District One; they seem to be our strongest rivals."

"Alright," I say. "Gabriel looks particularly strong, I'll try and stay on his good side."

"Also, don't forget about tributes from the outlying districts. They can still be both useful allies and dangerous threats."

"I know," I reply. "The boy from Seven looks like a contender."

"District Ten could be useful, too," interrupts Finnick. I wasn't even aware that he was listening to our conversation.

"Alright, I'll keep an eye out for them, too."

"It's not important to remember now, but once you're in the arena and you reach the final eight or nine tributes, you need to remember that everyone at that stage will be a major threat. Even those who survive by dumb luck until that point will be benefitting from sponsors by the time the arena is down to eight."

"Your point being?" I ask.

"My point is that everyone has some chance of surviving, depending on variables in the arena. Don't count anyone off just because they scored lowly."

I'm not sure that I agree with my mentor on this issue. Nobody since the Second Quarter Quell has won with a training score below seven. To me, a good training score is everything. I know that Ludo wants me to score highly in training, but he's trying to change my mindset. He might call me arrogant or complacent, but I know that I won't be killed in the arena by anyone who scored at least three below me. It just won't happen. And that's the end of the issue.

Still, I nod politely to Ludo as I rise from the breakfast table, as if to show that I agree with him, before I reply.

"I'm heading back to my room," I say. "I need to prepare for training."

Ludo does nothing but nod.

"By the way, an Avox should have brought in the clothes that you'll wear to training," he says. "They should be lying on your bed."

"Thanks," I reply before leaving the room.

Upon arriving in my room, I find the aforementioned training clothes draped across my bed that my stylist Bella has left for me. I've been given a tight-fitting sky blue top made of some sort of synthetic fibres. I assume it to be specially designed for exercise. It must be much better than the baggy cotton shirts that we wore for training in the Training Centre back at home in District 4. I've also been given a pair of black tracksuit bottoms, which look comfortable, although I'd usually prefer to train in shorts, so that I can keep cool better. That being said, no doubt these Capitol clothes have all been specifically designed for my needs. For shoes, I've been given what are clearly top of the range black training shoes, which have very thick rubber soles to them. I won't be struggling for grip today.

I change quickly before lounging in my room for a few minutes, taking the time to admire the view out over the City Circle from my bedroom window. Out there, I can see hundreds of people milling around, going about their daily business. It's a weekday, so I imagine a lot of them will be commuting to work. I can imagine what they are talking about as they walk in groups, especially after the parade last night. I just hope that I can become a regular topic of conversation among the Capitol citizens. I want them to remember me before I get into the arena.

And in order for them to remember me, I need a good training score.

Finally Flavius calls me out of my room at a quarter to ten, and I quickly find myself taking the elevator down to the basement of the Training Centre, where Flavius has told me that the gymnasium is. I'm in the elevator with Flavius and Marline, who hasn't said a word to me all morning. I can't imagine that she's gotten over Nathan's death yet (after all, she only found out a day ago), and I assume that is the issue that separates us. I don't blame her for it, but I don't see what she can hope to achieve by shutting me out. Regardless, I guess I'll just have to accept the fact that I won't be allying with my district partner this year. I certainly won't be the one making any advances.

As we reach the bottom of the elevator, Flavius directs us towards the gym and eagerly wishes us luck before returning up the elevator. As I walk slowly down the corridor towards the gymnasium, I find myself eagerly awaiting a chance to see the other tributes close up. I'm looking forward to meeting my competition.

Training will last for three days, in which all the tributes spend their time in the gym from ten in the morning until six in the evening. On the third day of training, all the tributes will be called in one by one by the Gamemakers to demonstrate their skills, so that we can be scored. I can imagine that a lot of the tributes will be unfamiliar of the schedule, but Harrow and Julian made sure that every trainee at the Training Centre knew exactly what would happen from the reaping to the first day in the arena.

As we reach the end of the corridor, the doors open automatically for us. The gym is a large, open space, with many different training stations dotted around the room, with experts on hand at each. The other tributes, of which about fifteen have already arrived, are in a close circle near the entrance of the gym, waiting for the last few to arrive. I can tell that many of the younger tributes, such as those from District 12, are intimated of me because of the way that they slowly edge away once I enter the circle.

Opposite me stands the largest threat to me, Gabriel of District 1. He must match my height inch for inch, and has long black hair that drapes down to his shoulders, making him seem rather moody. Still, I can see bright blue eyes peeking out from underneath. He looks strong, probably as strong as me, and he's bound to be well trained. Something about him reminds me of Harrow, though. I have a feeling that Gabriel will make a worthy ally.

His partner stands next to him, and although she might appear strong, she seems just like any other District 1 female. Nothing too special. Unless she's got an amazing ability, I doubt that she'll challenge me.

Most of the other tributes who I pointed out as threats, such as the tributes of District 2, haven't arrived yet. Looking round the group, there are no real weaklings; everyone this year will probably stand a small chance if luck is on their side. There are no twelve-year-olds, and the average age must be around fifteen. Based on physical abilities, I'd guess that six will be an average score in training this year.

District 2 walk in late, the male walking in with the sort of swagger that a person would only use is they were the President of Panem. The girl, Ashe, follows behind him, keeping her eyes deliberately away from Orion. Just like the girl from District 1, Amethyst, they seem strong but pale in comparison to Gabriel.

Finally the last two tributes, those from District 7, arrive just as the clock reaches ten. The girl looks hopeless, but the male looks dangerous. I remember hearing at the reaping that he's eighteen, but I can't remember his name. Still, I'm sure that he's over six feet tall, and although he's gangly and not that muscular, he's bound to be a fast runner. I add him to the list of tributes that I want to speak to today. I guess that I should see what he's capable of first, but I reckon he'll be a contender.

Now that we are all here, the head trainer, a young woman named Atala, begins to brief us on training. Along with most of the other Careers, I don't pay much attention to her words, as we already know almost everything that there is to know from seven years of rigorous training. Most of it is common sense, anyway. We can move round the training stations as we please. There will be experts on hand at each training station. There will be no fighting between tributes.

Then Atala dismisses us, and training begins.

For a minute, I'm unsure of where to go. then I remember some advice that Harrow once told me in the Training Centre at home. On the first day of the Games, I need to show off. Intimidate the other tributes. Give yourself a good reputation, and make sure that other tributes want to ally with you. And so, I immediately head to the sword station. It is my strongest weapon, after all.

At the moment I arrive, I notice that I have company. Gabriel, stands on my right, carefully holding a sword in his hands that he has picked up from the rack. I walk over the rack and do the same.

"So," he says calmly as I pick up my weapon of choice. "You're a sword man, too?"

"Yeah," I nod. "I guess you could say that."

I look up to see Gabriel smiling, that excited glint in his eyes once more.

"Show me what you've got," he dares me.

I look down at the sword training station. There are two rows of dummies, positioned in such a way that a skilled swordsman would be able to move effortlessly from one target to the next. It'll be a challenge, but nothing that I haven't done before. The expert stands at the side, beckoning us on. He knows that Careers don't need sword training; as a regular weapon in the Games every trainee in District 4 goes through hours of preparation with sword. We can all use it well, and I'm confident that Gabriel will be able to use it too.

I look back towards Gabriel and I can see that he has been staring at the dummies, too.

"Together?" I say, challenging Gabriel to compete with me. There are two sets of dummies, after all.

Gabriel raises an eyebrow before smiling.

"Together."

We don't wait for a countdown, we both just go, launching ourselves at the first practice dummy. I swing high at the first of the six, cleanly severing its neck before turning to drive my blade through the stomach of the second. Turning back on myself again, I take two steps before burying my blade into the side of the third dummy. I pull it out and swing round, cutting straight through the thigh of the fourth. Quickly I hurdle it as it falls, bringing my sword up above my head with both hands to drive it down onto the head of the fifth dummy, which splits cleanly in half. I tun again to find the final dummy, which I dismiss of in the same way as the first one, cleanly taking its head from its shoulders.

The heads of the sixth dummies hit the floor simultaneously. Gabriel and I look up from out swords and stare at each other. Gabriel is smiling but panting as we are both out of breath due to the energy required in our short routine. We both glance back together at the carnage that we have caused and burst out laughing. Looking round, we see that half the gym has stopped what they are doing to watch us. Even Orion, the cocky lad from District 2, is staring at us in disbelief.

"Allies?"

"Allies."

Then we drop our swords and walk the short distance to each other, shaking hands firmly as we reach each other.

The deal is done, and I have my first ally.

We then head to the spears section, where we again find ourselves in a dead heat. Neither of us are quite capable of hitting the furthest target (which is sixty yards away), but we can both hit all the others with ease. I beginning to realise that Gabriel's ability is both a blessing and a curse for me. On one hand, I have a superb ally. On the other, I've identified a seriously dangerous threat. But for now, whilst we are on the same side, it can only be a good thing.

We sit alone on a table at lunch, talking about what we should do next. I find out that Orion, like me, feels that he is stronger in close range fighting than with ranged weapons, and so we agree to head to the archery station in the afternoon when training resumes.

Talk quickly drifts towards finding other allies. Whilst we are confident in our own abilities, we would both feel happier if our alliance becomes a group of three. Having spent most of the morning concentrating on ourselves, we both realise that if we are to find any more allies, we need to watch how everybody else performs and then decide who to choose based on their merit. Neither of us really want to be allying with our district partners.

After lunch, we head to the archery station together as planned, where we utilise the help of the experts to hone our abilities. Neither of us have devoted much training to archery before. We are both strong enough to shoot arrows way beyond the furthest target, but our accuracy is poor. Slowly, over the course of the afternoon, we begin to improve.

Roughly an hour after lunch, we notice another tribute join us at the archery station. It's Ashe, the girl from District 2. For a Career, she's quite short, but there's no doubting that her appearance will be used to gain her sponsors. She's clearly very pretty, and even before she shoots an arrow, there's something about the elegance with which she holds the bow that we know that she will be good. By the end of the short display, we are as stunned as Orion was when he watched our swordplay. She was aiming exclusively at the furthest dummies, with at least nine out of ten arrows finding their target.

"She's almost as good as Robin," Gabriel mutters.

It takes me a moment to realise that Gabriel is referring to Robin Hurst, the boy who represented District 1 in last year's Games. His main weapon was his bow, and I don't recalling him missing a shot throughout the entire Games. I found it ironic that he met his demise at the hands of another, less experienced archer. But I guess that's just how the Games are. If there is one thing that the Games aren't, it's fair.

As Ashe replaces her bow on the stand at the side of the training station, Gabriel starts talking to me again.

"Do we want her?" he asks me.

"I think we should at least ask her if she wants to join us," I reply.

Gabriel starts to walk over towards Ashe, but before he has taken three steps, I see Marline rush over to Ashe from the knives station. She puts a protective arm around Ashe and leads the girl fro Two away from us, glaring back at me.

"Well, I guess that's the end of that," I say disappointedly.

"What's up with your district partner?" Gabriel asks curiously. "Is there some sort of problem?"

"Well, let's just say that the lad I killed at the reaping was a good friend of hers," I grin.

"Alright," laughs Gabriel. "I get it. Come on, we should try something else."

And so we move onto another station, at which Gabriel suggests the climbing wall. We're both decent at climbing and it's not a particularly useful skill when compared to swordfighting, but there's only an hour left of training and it gives us something to do without us putting in much effort. We take our time climbing the wall and then just sit on the ledge at the top, looking down over the gym. Opposite us, in a large room that looks down over the gym, are the Gamemakers, dressed in purple robes. I recognise a few, such as the Head Gamemaker, Tiberius Greenwood. I notice a couple of other Gamemakers looking up at Gabriel and I curiously.

Looking down over the arena, I see Orion working at the sword station, hoping for a reaction such as the one that we received earlier, but not getting one. Gabriel's district partner, Amethyst, is working on survival skills, which is odd for a Career. I guess that Gabriel and I will need to check out the survival stations at some point, if we can ever be bothered enough to do it. Ashe is now working with Marline at the archery station, where she is working with the expert to give Marline some advice. She's not terrible, but she's not as good as us, let alone Ashe.

Of the other tributes, most of them stick to the survival stations. I can see the two tributes of District 12, who both look no older than fifteen and have untidy black hair, working together to try and light a fire. The boy from District 10, who I remember to be called Robert, is on his own at the knives station, patiently trying over and over again to throw them, but he's no Ludo.

The smallish girl from District 7 appears just beneath us, about to attempt the climbing wall. She's probably fifteen or sixteen, and has medium length brown hair, typical of district 7. We watch as she nimbly clambers up the climbing wall to meet in less than a minute. For a few moments we stare at each other once she reaches the top, before the girl vanishes back down the climbing wall and away to the edible plants station.

Only once she is gone do I remember about her district partner, who I had singled out as a possible ally earlier in the day.

After a minute of searching for him, I find him on his way to the axes station, and I point him out to Gabriel. This ends up being a good decision as we watch him completely demolish all of the dummies at the station. It comes to my attention that not only is he strong at close quarters, but he's got a good throw on him, too. At medium or close range, he's incredibly lethal with those axes.

"We need him on our side," mutters Gabriel as the boy from Seven pauses for a moment to recuperate before moving on towards the spears station. Already I can see several others looking in his direction. We need to make sure that he sides with us.

"Agreed," I reply, but Gabriel isn't there to hear me. He's already halfway down the climbing wall, in pursuit of our next possible ally. I have no choice but to follow suit, and by the time that I'm on the ground again, Gabriel is already half way across the gym. I notice Orion abandon his station in an attempt to attract the boy's attention, but quickly realises that his attempt will be futile. He tries to attract my attention as I jog past him but I ignore him. I need to catch up to Gabriel.

By the time that I arrive, our alliance now has three members.

"Alec, meet Vincent, our newest member," says Gabriel eagerly.

"Hey Vincent," I say cheerily, holding out a hand towards the tall boy, which he grasps as we shake hands.

"Hi Alec," Vincent replies. He still seems slightly shocked that he's managed to ally with some of the Careers. "Nice swordplay earlier, by the way. Very impressive."

"Thanks," I reply. "But really, we need to be learning from you. Your ability with those axes is simply phenomenal."

The compliment makes Vincent smile, and I can see him relax a little.

"So, do you think we'll be allying with anyone else?" he asks.

"I doubt it," replies Gabriel. "Unless someone else shows off an unknown talent, I think it'll just be the three of us."

"So, where should we go now?" I ask the other two members of my alliance.

"I fancy one of the survival stations," replies Gabriel. "there's no point starting much more; we've only got ten minutes left today."

By the time that we have walked slowly over to the shelter building station the time is up for the day, and we all slowly make our way back to our floors of the Training Centre. Gabriel and I say our goodbyes to Vincent in the gym as he enters a different elevator to us, along with his district partner, whose name I still do not know. Our elevator is reasonably quiet; there is only me, Gabriel and Orion in it.

I'm not surprised that Orion wants to get in an elevator with us. No doubt he feels left out today; nearly all the Careers have found their own alliances, and he has been left alone. Then again, he's given us no reason to want him in our alliance.

"How's your alliance going?" he asks. I can tell immediately that he's trying to work his way into the alliance.

"Sorry, Orion. We already agreed that we would only be a group of three at most," says Gabriel bluntly, making Orion look nervous. Then the elevator stops at the first floor, and before Orion can ask anything else, Gabriel quickly leaves the elevator. I can see his mentor, Gloss, waiting for him, and the become involved in conversation before the elevator doors close, blocking them from sight.

"Is there an issue with me joining the alliance?" pleads Orion. I can tell from the way that he walked into training this morning that he expected the alliance to form around him. Even if he wasn't the leader, I'm sure that he wasn't expecting to be acting alone.

"There's no issue, Orion," I lie. "You just need to prove your worth. We don't want to be carrying dead weight." Even if he does prove himself, we won't ally with him. He's far too arrogant. But by saying this, we can shut him up for the time being. As long as we don't appear impressed by anything that he does, we won't have to let him join the alliance.

"Oh, ok!" says Orion, slightly more cheerily as the elevator stops again at the second floor.

Then I'm alone in the elevator, and I let out a long sigh of relief. It's been a long day, and I need some rest.

* * *

**A/N: If you enjoyed the chapter, please review! Constructive criticism is welcomed :)**


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